A World Of Grey
by DrkVrtx
Summary: Four years after Amon's defeat, Korra is becoming disillusioned as Republic City shows her its true face. Her relationship with Mako is strained as their responsibilities keep them apart. In the light of the murders of several women, she questions both the ability of the Police force and her role as the Avatar as she is driven towards a choice that will define her future.
1. Chapter 1

She was wild, filled with an insatiable hunger that seemed to possess her whole. It was uncommon for him to see her like this. He had never been able to discern a pattern to it, but he would never dare to complain.

Her bright blue gaze smouldered with heat in the brief moments where their eyes met, her dark brown hair lying strewn across the pillow. She clung to him fiercely, hands roving along his shoulders as her nails raked his skin. Her legs were crossed at his back, her calves pressing into his sides as she pulled him forwards. Her grunts and groans were shameless as she ground their hips together, craving him with every fibre of her being. They kissed with passionate fury, lips haphazardly crashing against each other, tongues at war in a bid for dominance. And she was winning.

He knew he didn't stand a chance when she was like this. She grabbed him bodily and dragged him towards the edge. It didn't matter even if he wanted otherwise. He may have been the one to pin her to the mattress, but there was no question as to who was ravishing whom. She threatened to steal his sanity, plunging him into a world so visceral, so _real_ that his senses would scream and flee in seven different directions. His muscles – his whole body – tightened, locking up as she clung to him and drew a deep, earthy groan from his lips. In the midst of the thick haze of pleasure that encompassed them it was a beautiful sound, swiftly joined by another. Her voice was loud, strong, trembling only when it had run its course and her arms and legs slowly loosened around him.

He flopped down next to her, staring up at the dark ceiling as the corners of his vision blurred intermittently and his chest rose and fell, glistening with a sheen of sweat. It was a long moment before he regained the powers of speech, though even when he did it cost more energy than he had readily available to produce a coherent sentence.

"Korra…what…you…" he panted before giving up and shaking his head. His body was telling him to shut up and give it a moment (or many) to recuperate after what she had just subjected it to, yet it was kind enough to offer him a single word that encapsulated how he felt.

"Wow," he breathed simply.

She smirked in response, and then she started to laugh. It was a soft sound at first, but quickly grew to its typical volume as she continued. He didn't know what she was finding so funny, but perhaps that was the point. The sound of her voice was infectious, and it didn't take long before he was grinning like an idiot as he listened to it. Pushing an arm behind his head, he turned to look at her as she eventually grew quiet, giving a soft chuckle as she dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes.

Four years and change – that was how long they had been together. Mako had made it his mission to learn her mannerisms, to be able to divulge her thoughts without her having to speak. It was a lengthy, often tricky process and though he considered himself fluent in the language of her body, she sometimes liked to throw him a curveball. He wondered if she did so intentionally at times.

She lay upon the bed, comfortably naked with the thin beige sheets drawn lazily up to her hips. He looked on as the soft orange light from the streetlights filtered through the windows and her dark skin glimmered with the sheen of post-coital sweat. He watched her throat pulse as she swallowed much needed air and watched her tongue trace the line of her lips, savouring the taste of him. He couldn't help himself from lifting his fingers to her flesh, lightly ghosting his touch down the length of her arm.

"So," he said, finally managing to regain the strength to speak. "What's gotten into you?"

"We haven't seen each other properly in almost a week," she replied. "Barely have the time to say hello, let alone spend a night together."

"I think we just more than made up for it."

"Oh, I wouldn't say so," she said, turning her face to him with a devious grin. "Unless I've worn you out already."

"Korra, I'm not too proud to admit that you've done quite the number on me," he said, painting a look of concern on his face. "Perhaps even lasting damage."

"You'll survive, City Boy." She lifted her head and draped her shadow over him, her hair falling to brush along his cheek as their lips softly met.

"It's your city now, too," he told her when they parted.

She returned her head to the pillow with a sigh. "So it seems. And everyone wants a piece of me."

"I'd hope not."

"Oh, shut up," she said harmlessly, lifting an arm and almost mirroring him as she rested her forearm at her brow. Mako's eyes dipped and took in the generous profile of her chest.

"Four years," she spoke quietly. "Four years since I became the Avatar in truth. Four years since I returned to the city eager to bless tortured souls and reunite them with their bending. I didn't imagine then that I would find myself where I am today."

Mako didn't say anything. The tone of her voice was one he recognised, that she simply wanted to speak, to unlock her heart and allow her thoughts to spill unadulterated from her lips.

"I'm not the optimistically naïve girl who came back from the South Pole, you know? I sometimes can't believe how willing I was back then to return bending to _everyone_. It's a cruel turn of luck that certain folk were born with the ability to bend, and if it hadn't been for the Council stepping in, well, I would have happily handed it right back to them. Funny then, that despite knowing my own desperation when I lost my bending, I didn't imagine the lengths people would go to get theirs back."

He watched her shake her head as she smirked at the irony of it all, but it was not one of amusement. He could hear the frustration in her voice.

"Ha. Taking me to court on grounds of discrimination. Spirits," she cursed. "I sometimes why I make myself suffer this nonsense. I have to listen to these people attempt to make a claim as to why my withholding their bending is unlawful, as though they wouldn't turn around the moment afterwards and resume committing the crimes they were given free rein to before Amon's revolution."

"Then why do you?" he prompted. He had heard these thoughts from her before, but he would allow her to repeat them to him to ease the frustration and annoyance pressing against the corners of her mind. Lately, it was becoming a more common practice.

She shrugged. "I'm the Avatar, aren't I? I have to represent myself fairly and give the people the chance to do the same, regardless of whom or _what_ they are."

"They why continue to go through the motions?" he said. "Surely they can't force you to keep hearing these pleas?"

This was where she would sigh, sometimes confessing to him that she didn't know why and at others reiterating to him her responsibilities as the Avatar. However, this time was different and her tone was sour when she spoke.

"It appears that certain criminals have a particular brand of clout with the powers that be," she said.

Mako wrinkled his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, surely you're not as slow as I once was. Why is it that people such as Lightning Bolt Zolt have appeared in court demanding that I return to them their bending and they have not been taken in by the police? Did Republic City forget all that they did prior to Amon?"

"We can't just take in people like him – big time players – on a whim," Mako told her. "There's a process, and it gets all the more complicated the deeper into their world you want to look."

"Right," Korra said plainly. "A process."

"Solid evidence, witnesses willing to testify, financial accounts that verify where their money is coming from and what uses it's being put to," Mako reeled off. "We need all of that, and more."

"Solid evidence? The homes and livelihoods of innocent people burned to ashes isn't enough? The countless crimes committed against non-benders before and persistently after Amon isn't enough?"

"Those things add up to a stronger case we can eventually make against them," Mako argued. "Otherwise we'd be locking up people like Zolt for a day and change and watching them walk free by the end of the week."

"I see," Korra said. "But it's apparently much simpler for you to round up and throw suspected Equalists behind bars."

The bed groaned as Mako sat up. "What does that mean? You're saying that as though we're tossing people into the back of vans on a whim. It's the extremists who pose a real danger to the welfare of the people that we're after."

In the wake of the revelation that Amon had been not only a bender but one wielding an outlawed form of bending, the anti-bending movement had appeared to fall apart, its momentum halting with jarring suddenness. It had seemed as though the Equalists would merely fade into the memories of the people and serve as an appropriate warning for future generation. However, within a year the movement had begun to gain traction once more, this time actively seeking to legitimize itself.

What they sought was a much broader and more politically and socially focused goal. They wanted reforms, gaining enough influence over the years to push pro-Equalist bills before the eyes of the city's lawmakers, demanding equal opportunities in several domains and pushing in particular for a non-bending arm of the police force and more representatives in the city's political arena. Only once the re-established Equalist movement began to truly take shape was it made clear how unfairly balanced the city was in favour of benders, a trend that spread right through the many layers of the city.

Yet despite this apparently legitimate push for change, there still existed groups within the movement more attuned with violence than policy. The Equalists were, after all, born at the hands of a man who desired to _inflict_ change upon the city. Mako, after having joined the police force shortly after Amon's defeat, quickly proved himself to be a dedicated and effective officer and was offered the opportunity to work his way up the ladder. He was at present a detective, established in a department dedicated solely to investigating the more extremist arm of the Equalist movement.

"What I mean is that I find it strange that the police can, with complete competence, trace a shipment of explosives halfway across the city and arrest the woman apparently in possession of them on the spot," Korra spoke without looking at him, "but to lock up men infamous for their continued violence against non-benders is a problem."

Mako's expression darkened at her words. "So you're saying, what, that the police force is really in the hands of such people? That we're all bought and paid for?" He gave a casual gesture, waving his hand nonchalantly. "We pick and choose the week's next catch from the city's stock?"

Her eyes closed and a tense silence stretched between them. The bed dipped and its springs whispered as Korra moved, sliding her legs out from beneath the sheets and lowering her feet to the ground. She stood without looking back at him, moving over to the small desk he kept not too far from the window. There was a clear jug of water sitting at its corner and he watched as she turned and lightly rested the back of her thighs and the heel of her right palm against the edge of the table, lifting her left hand. Quietly, the water rose from its container, curving upwards towards Korra's palm in a thin, unbroken string until the jug was left half empty. The direction that the orange light of the lamps lining the street filtered into the room left Korra's bare form dappled with shadows, the strong lines of her shoulders and flat stomach along with the softer curving slope of her chest seeming to meld into darkness.

The silence persisted as he watched her bend. He couldn't see her expression clearly, but he could see the shapes and patterns within the water. It moved carefully through the air, forming wide, contemplative loops that evolved into spiralling lines. Her hand moved slowly, the sound of the water merely a whisper as she manipulated its shape, producing soft, unbroken patterns. He saw her apology coming before he heard it.

"I'm sorry, Mako," she said quietly. "I'm just frustrated."

"What is it, really?" he asked. "What's bothering you?"

She looked up towards the window. "The women."

Without context, it was an answer that would have made no sense to him; however, he understood immediately what she was referring to. Over the past several weeks, three women had been discovered dead, their bodies mutilated by means of fire. It was apparent from the first instance that the murderer was a firebender. The bodies had turned up on the fringes of areas known to be controlled by the Triple Threat Triad, and thus they were immediately suspected. However, the degree and nature of the violence inflicted upon the victims was one previously unheard of and had done much to rattle the city. It had affected Korra too.

"Did you know they were all Water Tribe women?" she said quietly. "It can't be a coincidence. But why?"

"Whoever is doing this, and for whatever sick reason," Mako said firmly, "they'll be found soon enough. You don't have to worry about it, Korra."

She glanced at him. "I don't? I'm the Avatar, Mako. The people of this city are supposed to be able to depend on me to protect them, but instead I am stuck in the courtroom listening to the prattle of lawyers, or stuck in an office having the benefits of cracking down on the Equalist movement through legislative processes explained in thorough detail to me. If I'm not there, I'm at Air Temple Island having Tenzin lecture me about the ways and means of the Spirit World, or drilling airbending philosophies into my head."

She sighed, shaking her head. "I should be out _there_, protecting the city. Stopping people from doing such…madness."

"That's what the police force is for, Korra," Mako said gently. She wasn't reassured. He could tell by the grimace that rose briefly to her face.

"I suppose," she said simply, seeking to avoid reigniting the argument. "I just want to help, Mako. That's all."

"You have to trust us to do our part," he said as he watched her unravel the loops and spirals and form a wide, slowly revolving sphere of the water she was bending. "You can't be here, there and everywhere, Korra, even if you are the Avatar."

She only hummed in response to his words, an ambiguous sound that he couldn't decipher as she then carefully pooled the water back into the jug. Her footsteps were light as she returned back to the bed and she lay close to him as he drew the covers over the both of them. He leaned forward to kiss her and though she responded, it was half-hearted. They fell asleep not long afterwards.

* * *

Korra awoke to find him almost halfway out the front door. The sound of feet pacing quickly across the floor graced her ears, punctuated by the clatter of crockery in the kitchenette and the rustle and metallic screech of hands pushing through the contents of a wardrobe. She pulled herself from the realm of dreams into the land of the living just before he laid a warm hand to her shoulder and gently shook her awake. His voice sounded as though he was standing on the other side of the street trying to get her attention as she slowly cracked open her eyes.

"Mako?" she said, turning her eyes down and through her bleary vision seeing him dressed for work. "Already?"

"I'm sorry," he apologised quickly. "I have to go in. A runner came by not too long ago. There's been a breakthrough in the case."

Korra frowned, lifting a hand to shield her eyes against the sunlight filtering through the window. "We hardly spent…" she began, but then her voice trailed off into a defeated sigh and she merely nodded. She tilted her face as he leaned forward and kissed her.

"I know. I'm sorry," he said again, straightening after touching his lips to her brow.

She returned her head to the pillow and watched him stride over to front door, quickly slotting his feet into the dark, polished shoes patiently lying in wait for their masters. He flashed a smile over his shoulder and she lifted a hand from beneath the sheets to return his wave before he lifted two sets of keys from their hooks and slipped out into the city's embrace. Korra closed her eyes, though all intention to fall back to sleep had long since fled from her. She threw her forearm to her brow once more and grumbled dispassionately.

They had been together for four years, and in that time they had both been forced by various circumstances to grow and behave more maturely than their respective years dictated. Korra was twenty-one, and yet when people heard her speak and saw the way she carried herself they found it difficult to believe that was her age. Korra herself found it difficult to grasp at times how much she had matured from the feisty, hot-headed Water Tribe girl who had landed illegally on the shores of Republic City four years prior.

When she listened to herself speak in the courtroom or during meetings with Council members and the figureheads of the police force, she was sure that she was channelling the knowledge and expertise of Avatars in her past lives. She had managed to grasp the city's political domain to a more competent degree than she could possibly have dreamed, and she could not understate how important such knowledge was for her. But it was as though the price she paid for learning the intricacies of the system was for the few hours of freedom she could claim as her own to be wrangled from her grasp. There were more meetings with the Council she was required to attend, particularly as the Equalists' influence grew and the success of their pushing for changes in policy became more probable.

She and Mako had known that the lives they would eventually have to lead would make it difficult for them to spend meaningful time together. He had expressed his desire to join the police force soon after they had returned from the South Pole. It had seemed sudden and unbidden, but Korra soon came to understand that it was born from a desire to make a difference in the city, not only to ensure that such events as Amon's destructive movement were not repeated but also to protect those he could relate to, those who were forced to grow up on the hard streets he and his brother had survived. He was passionate about his work and confident in the abilities of the police force and his colleagues. It wasn't long after he had joined their ranks that Korra began to hear him defending what he stood for against the frequent public cry of dissatisfaction and incompetence. She remembered how heated his voice had threatened to become when she challenged him the night before.

Opening her eyes, Korra turned her gaze to the window, looking beyond the elevated line of the city to the sky beyond. They had known that maintaining a relationship between them would be difficult given the responsibilities they would have to bear, but there was never a doubt that they would do it anyway. In the optimism of being a fresh, new couple, they had made the promises that all young couples in similar circumstances make: work and their respective responsibilities would never become more important to them than each other. However, in the last few months especially, it seemed that such things were taking over their lives, individually and otherwise. There was hardly a moment that they could enjoy in each other's company. If she wasn't pulled away to meetings with the council or White Lotus representatives, Mako was drawn away by a case, an investigation, a breakthrough.

His apartment was nothing fancy, in fact in terms of square feet, it was smaller than the attic space he and his brother had shared above the Pro-Bending Arena. When Korra wasn't resting her head at the Air Temple, she was to be found here. On the hook besides the door hung a set of keys for her and some of her clothes occupied a small portion of his wardrobe. She as good as lived here and yet the topic had never been properly discussed between them. Mako had handed her keys to the apartment one day without prompt or pomp as though it were the most natural thing in the world to have done, telling her to come and go when she wanted. When she had asked him for his reasoning, he had simply shrugged and told her he thought it would be more convenient for her when she needed to attend meetings in the city.

Shading her eyes against the sunlight, Korra was reminded that she was still not a morning person. At the same time, she remembered that she was to meet with the Council and Chief of Police today. At the thought, she was tempted to merely curl up beneath the sheets and wait until a set of keys jangled in the lock. It frustrated her that she and Mako had barely been able to spend a night together before circumstances whisked them away from each other. Sometimes it bothered her that he seemed so willing to be called back to his job; she always went with a heavy sigh and much reluctance. If she attempted to stay away from the meeting then they would simply come and get her instead. If she was not at Air Temple Island, they knew where she was. Korra dragged herself out of bed.

She later appraised herself in the body length mirror propped against a wall, wondering not for the first time why Mako didn't just attach it to said wall. After her subsequent return to Republic City from the South Pole, it had occurred to her both that her attire wasn't comfortably suited to the climate and that she desired to look as suave as many of the citizens she passed by daily. This she soon opted to replace the thick, traditional Water Tribe garments in favour of lighter materials.

At the back of an aqua-blue long-sleeved vest, which was cool and light upon her skin, was stitched an emblem formed of the symbols representing the four elements, and she wore thinner, less baggy trousers of a much darker hue of blue. Over this simple ensemble she would generally don a long, thin coat similar to the one Mako had worn before he had taken up the uniform of a police officer, the line of bronze coloured buttons wrapping around to her right side. It was of a darker hue of grey than his had been, practically black he had told her when she once argued the technicalities with him. As a representation of her heritage, the emblem of the Southern Water Tribe sat proudly above her heart.

Unbound, her hair fell past her shoulders and though Mako often encouraged her to wear it just like that, for practicality's sake she continued to fashion it into a long tail that sat high at the back of her head. She gathered her hair into her hands to do so now, afterwards recovering her coat which was draped over the back of the chair at Mako's desk. Tidying up after herself, Korra moved over to the trio of hooks and retrieved her key, locking the door behind her as she stepped out of the apartment.

Waiting on the street outside the tall residential block was a sleek, jet-black Satomobile, its driver lounging casually at the front seat. Korra couldn't help but smirk and shake her head when she saw him.

"What is this, a courtesy call?" she said as she approached the side of the vehicle. "Just passing through the neighbourhood and decided to stop by and say hello, Takka?"

"Aye, ma'am," the man replied, tipping his hat to her. "Here to wish you the best of mornings."

"Wonderful," Korra said. "Well, if that is all…?"

"And to deliver you speedily to City Hall, ma'am," Takka supplied.

"Of course," she said, her smile somewhat fading. "And stop calling me 'ma'am', Takka."

"Aye, ma'am."

_Why do I bother? _She thought wearily as she pulled open the door and stepped into the Satomobile, feeling the eyes of the city already upon her as they moved away.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," Korra said, splaying the fingers of her left hand and spreading the portfolios across the table-top. "You want me to return bending to these members of the Agni Kai."

She looked up from the black and white photographs of each of the men to the faces of the five Council members, the Chief of Police and his advocate sitting around the table. Feng, Chief Saikhan's successor, happened to be positioned directly opposite her, and his steel-grey eyes were narrowed as she lifted her own to meet them. He was a hard man, one who exercised his authority without hesitance and one very much used to having his word go unquestioned. Korra, however, was among one of the few who could do just that.

"Once I do that," she continued, "these men will then return to their masters and be put to task once more. They will resume their crimes against non-benders and their establishments for which they have previously been taken in by the Police. This time, however, you intend to follow the breadcrumb trail of these men, using them as bait to expose the upper ranks of the Agni Kais. You believe the triad is experiencing great turmoil because there is a threat of a violent change in leadership, courtesy of Amon removing their bending."

"As you say," Feng managed to squeeze out from behind a small yet clearly forced smile.

Korra glanced down at the portfolios. "These men are noteworthy in particular because of their excessive inclination towards violence, and you want me to give them the means to cause even more damage."

"We have been keeping tabs on those men, Avatar Korra," Feng's advocate spoke, filling the chamber with his smooth, calculating tone. "They represent an important layer of the Agni Kais that is in direct contact with a number of its key players. We will be quite able to track their comings and goings, to find out exactly who they are taking their orders from and their function within the organisation. From there, we can work towards –"

"You are asking me," Korra cut across the man whose voice served to grate on her patience, "to restore the destructive capability of men who even in the face of losing their bending have managed to prove just as hostile towards non-benders."

"As you yourself mentioned, we need a breadcrumb trail to follow," was the man's oiled reply. "I surely don't need to remind you that the Agni Kai syndicate is made up of solely firebenders. The only reason these men have managed to stay within the ranks without their bending is due to their reputation and the influence they all individually wield. We can use that to our own advantage. Once in possession of their bending, they'll no doubt be reckless, eager to prove themselves and – "

"The Police will just follow their path of destruction, yes?"

"In a sense," the man replied. "We will of course be working behind the scenes to influence where these men choose to make their…statements. There will be no casualties, Avatar Korra."

Korra placed her hands on the table, interlacing her fingers as she held the eyes of the advocate. "Do you honestly expect me to trust those words when dealing with such men as these? They wield _fire. _It is unpredictable and wild; it lusts for destruction. According to these portfolios, the Police Force has previously taken in these men on accounts of arson and robbery." Korra gestured almost casually as she allowed her voice to trail off for a moment. "And where are these men? Behind bars where they belong? No, they are _still _walking the streets alongside innocent, honest citizens with a smile on their face because they know the Police lack the competence to keep them in a cell for more than a few hours."

"Now just you wait one moment, Avatar," Feng growled between clenched teeth, half-rising from his seat.

"I will not support these half-baked plans of yours," Korra spoke over the man as his face began to redden in outrage. "You would have me stand in a public assembly and condone the actions of these men by returning their bending to them, and then when they unleash their fire upon non-benders yet again, the Police will be nowhere to be seen. Instead, Iwill have to shoulder the blame and suffer the public outcry."

Barely keeping her own blood from boiling and her anger spilling out into her voice, Korra pushed back her chair and stood to her feet. Chief Feng rose to his full height to match her, evidently livid with the manner of her refusal. She didn't attempt to waste energy and find it in herself to care for his reaction to her judgement of his establishment. She was growing sick of the actions – or rather inaction of the Police Force.

"I am not your scapegoat, Chief Feng," she told him. " I won't serve as the catalyst for the inevitable outcry from the Equalist movement in light of the persistent persecution of non-benders and the failings of the Police Force, which will only lead to me having to attend more of these pointless, _infernal_ meetings."

And with that, she turned on her heel and swept from the room, ignoring the raised voice of the man as he shouted after her before turning on the Council itself. She needed fresh air. City Hall was an expansive, luxurious building, but Korra had always felt as though its walls were pressing against her whenever she dwelt within it – and that was too often. When she finally stepped outside, she found herself a spot underneath the shadow of one of the tall pillars and waited, folding her arms across her chest as she merely watched the city go by.

The sun had risen high above the city's skyline, tall shadows slinking down the sides of office blocks and residential towers as the great fiery orb approached its zenith. She raised her head a fraction and looked to the airships that occupied the domain above, several emblazoned with the title 'Red Sun Technologies'. Korra spared a moment to think of the steady decline of Future Industries in the years since Hiroshi Sato had fled Republic City in the wake of Amon's defeat, his daughter left to take upon herself the arduous challenge of repairing the damage done to the business' reputation. Korra had not managed to keep up regular contact with Asami after they had all returned from the South Pole. The young woman, left to somehow attempt to save a failing company, had drawn into herself and her work, subsequently drawing apart from what had once been fondly called Team Avatar.

"Korra," a familiar voice spoke from behind her shoulder, its tone sage, fatherly and at the moment flavoured with subtle hints of exasperation as well as pride. That he could somehow infuse his voice with several emotions at once had always served as a point of fascination for her. She continued to lean against the smooth, cool stone but turned her head towards him.

"Are you going to tell me off, Tenzin?" she asked, the small smile that curved her lips failing to give light or warmth to her gaze.

The man frowned, deepening the lines that were slowly but surely shaping his features in preparation for a graceful, older visage. "While I do think you could have handled yourself a little more appropriately, I fully support your argument."

"Fully?" she repeated. "That's new."

"Chief Feng brought this…plan of his before the Council prior to us allowing him to present it to you. Four of us were already in agreement that to go through with it would be a costly mistake."

"Then why even bother calling me to this meeting?" Korra asked. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Chief Feng was adamant about presenting the plans to you personally," Tenzin said. "He was confident you would understand their apparent necessity, to use his words. I, however, was sure that you would follow the majority of the Council's line of argument."

"Well, I'm pleased to have entertained you all," Korra remarked. "Let's do this again next week, shall we?"

"Korra," Tenzin sighed, resting his hand at her shoulder. "I can understand your frustrations with meetings like this, but they _are _necessary, both for us to conduct them and for you to attend them."

"Tenzin, I would see the necessity if these meetings actually accomplished something," Korra replied coolly. "This is not the first time Feng has presented such dangerous ideas to the Council, or to me. I have refused him before and yet here we are again. _Why? _Instead of wasting our time with this nonsense, the man should be organising the Police Force more effectively and efficiently across the city. Do you think I made those comments just to piss him off? I am forced to sit here day after day while the Force fails to live up to its expectations. During Chief Saikhan's tenure, the city's crime rate rose annually. During Feng's single year as Chief, the Triple Threats' territory has expanded further towards the industrial sector. Do I even need to spell out what will happen if such expansion continues?

"But guess what, Tenzin? Apparently no one cares enough to lift a finger to stop them. Breaking up a small Equalist protest calling out the disparity between benders' and non-benders' wages is clearly more important than the possibility of the Triple Threats gaining influence in the city's industrial sector. Feng is throwing Police resources Spirits only know where, and the Council is sitting back and letting him do just that. What?" Korra said as she turned to the Councilman and caught him smiling.

"I was just remembering the flustered seventeen-year old who was adamant that she would never understand anything about Republic City beyond the Pro-Bending Arena," Tenzin explained in a fond tone.

"Oh," Korra said, turning back to watch the skyline. "Well, I'm glad that what I was saying was of much importance to you, Tenzin."

"I heard you," Tenzin said, lifting his hand from her shoulder and moving to stand slightly in front of her. He clasped his hands behind his back as he regarded her with a calming sky-blue gaze. "I was listening. What you really wish to say is that you would rather be on the streets dealing directly with criminal organisations rather than be forced to attend these meetings, yes?"

Korra, who had not yet turned her eyes to him did so now, and her gaze was hard.

"With all due respect, Tenzin, don't patronize me. As you pointed out, I am not the seventeen year old who riled for a fight every five minutes. I am the Avatar, who dwells in a city that is slowly losing the lustre of the vision held by the great man who came before me, and yet I can't go out and pave the way for necessary changes because I am tied down by politics. I am called to maintain a balance, both in the way of the elements and the people who inhabit this world, aren't I?"

"Of course, and we are not tying you down, Korra," Tenzin said firmly. "We are enabling you to step into a position where you can properly facilitate the changes we both know need to be made in Republic City. But there is a process, procedures that must be followed. Your intentions may be good and right, but others will see it as violence being used to beget peace, and we already have ample examples of what one would reap afterwards."

"Processes and procedures," Korra laughed, her voice empty of amusement. "I understand, Tenzin. I understand."

It was the second time in the space of less than twenty-four hours that she had been told that. She was already sick of hearing it.

Korra pushed herself up off of the pillar, interlacing her fingers and pushing her arms out in front of her, enjoying for a moment the pull on her tense shoulders. It was barely noon and already she felt drained, fatigued.

The familiarity of her daily routine had done much to wear down her tolerance and good will, and along with it were a number of frustrations that splintered her attention and formed a chaotic pattern of thoughts that stirred sluggishly through her mind. Her current way of life was lacking a constant that she could truly cling to and gain strength from, and it was beginning to worry her. Mako should have naturally assumed that role, but they hardly saw much of each other lately, their moments together so fleeting. And though she appreciated Tenzin's paternal outlook for her, it had been a long time since she had felt the desire to confide in him. It was rare for her to see him in his natural state as a father and husband. She was accustomed to the Councilman and the teacher, both of which were stern, rigid personalities that grated uncomfortably against her own nature.

Neither of them knew her thoughts, not truly, and it was with a burdened heart that she confessed this to herself. She didn't know how to share them, or whether she ought to. Ironically, life had seemed so much simpler in the days of Amon's revolution. She had lived and breathed Republic City and it had spoken to her. Now, she merely sat and watched and felt disconnected, wading waist-deep through the clay upon which she had once ran fleet-footed.

"What am I to attend to now?" she asked her airbending teacher as she made for the steps that would lead down to Takka and the Satomobile waiting to take them to the harbour.

"Meditation," Tenzin answered. "It has been some time since our last session…and I think it would be helpful for you to have a moment away from all of this," he said as he gestured towards the building behind them.

"Great," Korra remarked, finding the strength to feign a smile. "Let's not keep the Spirits waiting then."

* * *

**A/N: Story cover belongs to KostanRyuk, and can be found at DeviantArt: /art/Korra-314978898**


	2. Chapter 2

The sand gave easily to the weight of her stride. Countless infinitesimal grains filled the small gaps between her toes as her feet sank into its warm, soft depths. Sparkling blue waters murmured gently as they rolled towards her and then were drawn back into the sea, a thin crest of foam crowning each undulation. The sounds of the sea soothed her as she walked along the beach, her eyes turned aside to grace a horizon bordered with shimmering gold. The sun was a pleasant, familiar warmth upon her, like the embrace of a dear friend that looped an arm around her shoulders and walked side by side with her. The sky was dim and without a cloud, but the wind whispered to her. It was not a voice that spoke with words, but instead something that strived to commune with a deeper part of herself.

She walked thus along the edge of the sea, clothed simply in an aqua-blue shift whose feather-light fabric fluttered continually with each breath of wind along with her unbound chestnut locks. The beach was timeless, stretching on far beyond where her eyes could discern. She walked it alone as she had time and again. The soft, endless sands were stirred by her feet and no other, the quiet song of the ocean heard by none but herself. It was a place that belonged to her. Born of her mind and shaped by her imagination, it was something in her life that she could truly call her own. Here was where she strived to perceive and understand the spiritual realms, to attempt to communicate with those who had come before.

She had long ago lost sight and remembrance of her own physical form, but here the wind and warmth upon her skin were just as real - if not more so. In this place, she could experience the elements that she had been born to harness distilled into their truest essence. It was an experience that transcended the need for explanation. No words could ever truly convey the depth of the meaning she wished to share whenever she returned to her physical form, and any effort to do so would only result in her tongue becoming twisted with confusion. Here she was at one with the elements, and knew them more intimately than even her lover.

She knew herself here, also. She could feel her passion burning, encircling the golden orb of the sun and her frustration that lay just beneath the gentle waves of the ocean's surface. The whisper of the wind had becoming an incessant chant that she had found more recently she could not hope to decipher, no matter how wilfully she tried. The sand between her feet would often feel hard and gritty.

She had created this place to be one of peace, and yet her inner sanctuary was slowly become tainted by the emotions she restrained beneath her skin each day. This was not the first time that she had walked the endless length of the beach, her heart calling out for an answer that never came. The moments where her eyes had settled upon the face of her predecessors were few and far between, and each time that she was refused an answer only made her grow all the more frustrated.

Time bore no meaning for her here. The sun always hovered just above the horizon, perpetually prepared to set, and so when she finally paused in her walk and turned fully to face the vast ocean she could not guess how long she had lingered. All that she knew for certain was that her heart was heavy with questions, and she could not push beyond her emotions and tumultuous thoughts to reach out to those who came before her. Sometimes she wondered if they hid themselves from her intentionally, bearing no answers or words of encouragement that would help her understand. Perhaps her dilemma and the time and space in which she lived were simply too different. Perhaps she had to work this out by herself.

For the fact that she had once found it nearly impossible to journey to this place, it always intrigued her that she now found it quite difficult to withdraw herself. Here she felt connected to something that was more than she was. It was something so great and meaningful that she could not ascribe words to it. Part of her longed to remain here, devoting itself to puzzling out the answers to questions which great minds before her had long sought after. However, at the same time she knew that she had to return to her physical self and world. There would be a time for such a search, but it was not now. Not yet.

Her return to herself was slow. She had to be careful not to move too quickly. She would feel cripplingly nauseous otherwise. One such instance had earned her almost three days of being bedridden with a stomach that would accept neither food nor drink. Her head had pounded as though men with hammers stood tirelessly at work within her skull.

She gradually came to know herself, feeling the wooden panels of the pavilion beneath her. The air was cool upon her cheeks and as her ears registered otherwise silence, she opened her eyes. She found herself alone, though she distinctly recalled having settled into meditation while sitting opposite her airbending teacher and alongside his four children. Pushing a slow and steady breath between her lips, Korra parted her fists, breaking her typical meditative posture to rest her hands slightly behind and to either side of her. She looked out upon the open water.

It was not the first time that they had done this; the children were largely impatient when it came to meditation. Not even the quiet, reserved Jinora could settle too long into the state (though in comparison with her siblings, her meditative sessions lasted an eternity). They would usually make their careful retreat, leaving their father and Korra to continue on. Tenzin would sometimes depart before she had returned to the physical world, drawn away most commonly by an urgent duty that could not afford to be delayed. He was adamant about not interrupting Korra whenever she meditated unless absolutely necessary. The first instance in which she had 'awoken' to find herself utterly alone underneath the pavilion had served to severely disorientate her. She had for a wild moment thought that she had not yet transitioned from her inner sanctuary, which Tenzin had instructed her how to find and create, until she had heard the far off shout of Pema's voice reprimanding her first son.

This time, however, she found that she was disappointed, and perhaps even a little upset, to have not opened her eyes to see Tenzin waiting along with her. She needed answers and could feel the desperation for them slowly but surely worsening within her. Tenzin may not have been able to answer her, in fact she still didn't think she would feel able to confide truthfully in him, but he would at least be able to offer her some nugget of wisdom that she could use to steady herself. But then she chastised herself, for surely she was being selfish. Tenzin was a man with the weight of responsibility settled firmly upon his shoulders, and she could not expect him to sit with her for an indefinite period of time until she decided she was ready to return to the world.

The sky was beginning to darken as she looked out over the open water. She had to remind herself that Tenzin had a family to attend to as well as his duties as a Councilman. It was often that those two lives served to contend with each other for his time and attention.

Korra turned her eyes and looked down, finding her coat to be folded neatly and sitting at her side along with her boots. She gave a small smile, assuming that Jinora was the culprit. Korra had shrugged off the garment, allowing it pool to the ground beside her before settling into meditation. She spared a moment to consider the relationship she shared with the Tenzin's eldest daughter. She was not been blind to the fact that Jinora had seemed to adopt her as an older sister. The young girl's behavioural changes had been subtle over the years, but Korra watched as she took tentative steps into the realm of her teenage life, noticing that Jinora drew away from her siblings and began to gravitate towards her.

Tenzin, particularly after the Equalists had chased down and captured his family and Amon had come perilously close to ridding the world of airbending entirely, became rigidly protective of his children. The moments in which they were permitted to set foot outside of the Island were few and far between, and always well accompanied. Korra became Jinora's one constant connection to Republic City that was not the dry, political affairs of her father or the news reports and other various programs listened to via their family's radio.

She would always ask about the city, the sounds and sights and tastes and smells that she wasn't yet permitted to discover and explore for herself. She would ask about the people that Korra dealt with on a daily basis or those she merely passed by in the streets. She enquired about their personalities and characters and what Korra (honestly) thought of them. Korra had once apologised to Jinora that she could not regale her with the kind of stories that the young girl often immersed herself in. However, Jinora was apparently thrilled by anything Korra could tell her. It was sometimes hard to resist her quiet, but persistent requests for Korra to steal her away from the island for a night, just so that she could experience Republic City outside of her father's understandable but nonetheless rigid constraints.

Korra rolled her shoulders and neck as she stood to her feet, hooking a finger into the collar of the coat and draping it over her shoulder. She tucked a thumb into the waistband of her trousers and set off to find out where everyone had run off to. It wasn't long before she heard and began to follow the sounds of two passionately contesting voices.

"No you can't. You've never been able to beat me!"

"Well, I will this time. Just you watch!"

"Fine. Let's make it interesting. Loser has to eat a whole bowl of sea prunes. _Raw."_

_"_Yeuch! Deal," Meelo agreed in a loud voice. "I'll make you regret that bet," he confidently told his older sibling.

Korra finally crested the small incline that led up to the airbending gates. She fondly remembered burning them to cinders in a fit on impassioned anger after being smacked around time after time. Four years on, she wondered why she had ever found the exercise so difficult. But, of course, with time came knowledge. Her airbending was certainly not as proficient as her other three elements, which was why she still attended Tenzin's lessons, but more recently he had encouraged her with the report that she was fast on track to earning her mastery.

The airbending gates turned infrequently in the light breaths of wind that teased their corners, sitting on a raised platform of stone before which stood Meelo and Ikki. The two were merely inches apart from one another as they attempted to stare each other down. Korra barely suppressed a laugh as she saw them. Jinora was sitting on a bench not too far from the gates with a pen and notepad in hand. Her youngest brother was sitting on the ground at her feet, an expression of severe concentration upon his features that did not befit his tender young age. Korra walked over in their direction, not surprised that Ikki and Meelo managed to not notice her as the latter stepped up to tackle the gates first.

It was a common game of theirs to see who could reach the other side in the fastest time while traversing a path that took them through every single gate. Ikki hadn't been lying when she claimed to have a clean record against her brother, in fact the young airbender was better than any of them at completing this particular trial. The day when she had outdone her father was one her mother would never let him forget, often through playful teasing using it to soften his temperament whenever he was chastising his daughter.

Jinora looked up as Korra drew near. She smiled slightly, her eyes brightening as she greeted her.

"Hey," Korra returned. "How long was I gone for?"

"About four hours," Jinora replied. "Dad had to leave early and told us to stay with you, but those two –" she said while gesturing towards the spinning gates, "they couldn't sit still for too long afterwards. I decided it was best for us to leave you to it."

Korra arched her brow as she settled a hand at her hip. "I can't believe you would just leave me to be all by myself," she said with a tone of feigned hurt.

Jinora shrugged. "Naga is always watching you when you meditate."

Which reminded Korra that she had not yet seen the polar bear-dog since stepping foot on the Island. She half-turned and glanced over her shoulder, looking back down the small hill towards the empty pavilion. "Where is she?"

"Went back to her pen not long before you woke up," Jinora said. "Probably to get someone to feed her."

"So where were you guys? Up here?"

Jinora shook her head. "We _were_ in the house until Mom demanded peace and quiet and basically kicked us all out."

"All of you?" Korra smirked. "I thought you and Rohan were the goody two shoes of the bunch."

Jinora rolled her eyes at the comment, her youngest brother apparently oblivious as he made a strained sound of effort and screwed his eyes tightly shut. "We are, so that's why Mom sent us along with the troublemakers to make sure they didn't pester you."

"Ah," Korra said, taking a seat on the bench and propping her left leg on her knee. Rohan gave a moan of frustration and opened his eyes a moment later.

"I can't do it!" he cried to his sister before realising Korra was there and his disappointed gaze brightened. "Korra!"

"Hey, little guy," she said, reaching forward and ruffling his thick, dark hair. "What can't you do?"

"Make an air scooter," Jinora answered for him, looking across at Korra. "I keep telling him he's too young to grasp that yet, but…_children,_" she finished with an exasperated tone.

"Meelo can do it," Rohan argued with a tone that suggested he thought life was very much unfair. "He's only a little bit older than me," he said, pouting.

"Yes, well, Meelo is…eccentric."

"Electric?" Rohan tried to repeat with a confused expression, prompting Korra to burst into laughter as Jinora groaned her impatience.

"What she means is that your brother has too much energy for his own good," Korra explained when Rohan turned to her, looking utterly lost. "He picks things up very quickly."

"Even faster than you?"

Korra nodded. "Even faster than me sometimes."

"But…you're the Avatar!" Rohan argued, his innocent blue-grey eyes wide with the revelation and his simple belief that the title was reasoning enough for what she had said to not be true.

"Ah, but I can't do everything as well as others can," Korra explained. "You guys were all born as airbenders," she told the boy. "What comes naturally to you sometimes doesn't for me."

"Oh…" Rohan said softly, lowering his eyes and, she could see, striving to process her words. She inexplicably felt the warmth of pride flowing through her as she watched him. He was an intelligent child.

"So, do you think I can do it?" he asked a few moments later, looking up at her with bright, hopeful eyes. "Even if I'm only five?"

"You're still four," Jinora corrected him.

"It's my birthday soon!"

"And right now, you're still four."

Rohan replied by sticking his tongue out at her. Korra chuckled and answered him. "I could bend three elements when I was your age. I think you can do it."

At the corner of her eye, she could see Jinora turning to remind her that she was a special case. Korra's arm snapped up and she smiled encouragingly at Rohan as his sister grumbled into her palm. The young airbender smiled wide at her words and promptly settled into a meditative posture, pushing his little fists together as he closed his eyes. Jinora gave Korra an exasperated look when she removed her hand from her mouth, but didn't say anything otherwise.

"How's your book coming along?" Korra asked her.

When she had first come to Republic City and then subsequently Air Temple Island, there were moments few and far between where she didn't find Jinora utterly absorbed in a book. She later came to understand that Jinora used them as an escape from the rigid structure of her day-to-day life, something that had been emphasised when she found the girl reading through the same books time and again. Her collection was small, and though she had asked her father on numerous occasions to get her new books, Tenzin was often too caught up in his responsibilities to remember. Korra had for the last two years helped Jinora expand her collection by buying her books from the city, and recently she had learned that she was trying to write her own novel.

"I'm stuck," Jinora admitted, tapping on the blank page of the notepad with the end of the pen seemingly for emphasis. "I didn't think romance was this difficult to write. All the books I've read make it seem so…effortless."

"Well, that it certainly isn't," Korra remarked lightly.

"Can I run an idea by you?" Jinora asked.

"Sure."

"Well, my main character? She falls in love – like, head over heels – with this rugged man who she comes across one day beaten up at the side of the road. The thing is she's _really_ important, not quite like a princess but somewhere close to that, you know? So she has a lot of responsibilities and a strong sense of duty to her country, and there comes a point where she has to decide between the future and welfare of her people and her own happiness."

"But here's the thing," Jinora continued on animatedly before Korra could even think to slip a word in. "Her relationship with the man is tricky. They're at odds a lot of the time; they're almost too similar to suit each other. He's brash and arrogant and prideful, and she's headstrong and likes things done her way or not at all. Sometimes she thinks she hates him, but really she can't live without him."

"So what's the problem?" Korra asked, carefully keeping her face straight.

"I don't know which choice she should make," Jinora said. "Her country, or her heart."

"Hmm. You sure like to keep things simple," Korra said. "Well, maybe –"

"Korra! Hey Meelo, Korra's _finally_ awake!"

Korra had always found it strange that the airbending children referred to her returning to her physical self after meditation as 'waking up'. It was something she inadvertently found herself adopting. She had to admit that it sounded more natural than saying she had 'returned'. She also had to admit that some of her inner sojourns were rather lengthy.

Ikki's voice carried loud and clear over to her, the young girl became immediately distracted from thoroughly whooping her brother at their game by Korra's presence. The two hyperactive young airbenders rushed over, predictably interrupting Rohan's quiet but persistent efforts as the gates were left spinning in their absence. Meelo promptly began to interrogate his younger sibling as to what he was doing while Ikki bounced on the balls of her feet in front of Korra. Her face was radiant with unquenchable excitement as her sister rolled her eyes.

"Korra! Korra! Korra!"

Korra both marvelled and was always warmed by the fact that the airbending family had each in their own way taken her in as though she was one of their own. To the children, she had become a big sister, and to Tenzin and Pema like a daughter. Whenever she came to the Island she would swiftly find herself surrounded by her four 'siblings', and very rarely did Pema permit her to return to the city without sitting at their table and sharing food with them. On the days where she especially missed her parents and home, she knew that she could turn to Air Temple Island without pretence. Through them she had learned that a relation of blood was far from necessary to think of others as family. Korra loved each of them as though she had been born under their roof.

"Yes, Ikki?" she asked, laughing.

"Did you know? Did you know? The Fire Ferrets are playing today!"

Korra arched her brow. "They are?"

"You _didn't _know?" Ikki exclaimed with a tone of sheer surprise.

"I haven't really had the time to keep up with Pro-Bending…" Korra admitted.

"Oh, I really want to go and watch," Ikki lamented as she dropped herself onto the bench in between her two sisters. "We haven't seen Bolin in _ages!"_

"Or Asami!" Meelo added, his eyes growing dreamy at the mere mention of the young woman's name and earning himself a chuckle from Korra.

He had nurtured the young flame of his crush for Asami all these years, despite having not physically seen her since they returned from the South Pole. She had been a prominent topic in the newspapers upon their return, and Korra could perfectly understand why Meelo was so fond of her. Asami had begun to truly grow into her beauty as she stepped up to take the reins of Future Industries, something that journalists frequently commented on when they were not publishing articles that questioned her ability to restore her father's business to its former glory, or attempting to further tarnish its name by exploring possible links with Equalist extremism.

"I wish she could visit…" Meelo said mournfully.

"She is very busy, but I'm sure she still thinks of you," Korra told him.

"Really?" he said, brightening immediately.

"Yes, _anyway,"_ Ikki interrupted, looping her arm through Korra's. "Did you hear the rumour? Tonight might be the Fire Ferrets' last game!"

"What?" Korra said, turning. "Why?"

Ikki grinned with glee at having captured Korra's full attention. "Yeah, the radio man said that Bolin might be packing up the team."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Jinora said lightly.

Ikki continued on as though Jinora hadn't said a word. "I really want to go and watch. Can you convince Dad to let us go?"

"I don't even know where your father is right now," Korra said.

"Well, then how about Mom?"

"Not a chance."

"But it's the last game!"

"I really doubt Bolin would pack up the team," Korra told her. "He loves Pro-Bending, and didn't we – well, they – win the cup last season?"

"No, that was _two_ seasons ago," Jinora corrected her. "The Fire Ferrets haven't been doing very well since then, honestly."

"Oh, guess I'm really out of the loop," Korra said.

"Why don't you go anymore?" Ikki demanded as though Korra had committed a grave sin.

"I'm not too fond of reporters hounding my footsteps, Ikki. They're far too tiring to deal with."

"Well, you _have_ to go tonight and convince Bolin not to give up the team."

"I'm sure he isn't –" Korra began, but Ikki fixed her with a glare that clearly said she was not to be refused. Korra lifted her hands in surrender.

"Alright, no promises, but I'll try."

They turned when Rohan gave a shout of glee as his brother helped him form the basic structure of an air scooter. The young boy hovered momentarily in the air before the scooter's form quickly deteriorated and he fell back to the ground with a sound of surprise.

"That's not fair!" Rohan cried immediately.

"You almost had it," Korra encouraged him. "You'll get it soon enough."

"Move Meelo," Ikki said, jumping off the bench. "Let me show him how to do it."

"I'm a better teacher!"

"Nuh uh!"

"I refuse to have children," Jinora suddenly said as the two of them sat and watched Ikki and Meelo squabble. Korra could only laugh.

"Wait, what time is the match starting?" she asked loud enough for Ikki to hear her.

"Eight!" the girl shouted mid argument, somehow returning to it a moment later without skipping a beat.

"Right, well I'd best get going then."

"You're going already?" Meelo said, emerging from the argument which was quickly all but forgotten as Korra rose to her feet.

"Yeah, sorry guys," she said. "I would stay longer but I'm going to try and drag Mako from his job to come with me to the Arena."

The eyes of Jinora and Ikki immediately lit up at the talk of her partner, though the latter was much more expressive about her interest in all things romance.

"Oh oh! We haven't seen Mako in ages either!" Ikki cried. "Is he still tall, dark and handsome?"

"Very much so," Korra smirked.

"And you stay with him when you aren't here, right?"

"Right."

"Oh, that's so cute," Ikki exclaimed. "I wish I could stay with Bo – uh…"

Korra grinned. "I'll be sure to tell him, Ikki."

* * *

Korra fished for her keys as she approached the door, the small set jangling as she reached into the inner pocket of her coat. She withdrew them after a few moments, leaning down to align herself with the absurdly small lock before pushing forward and grasping the door handle. She was in for a surprise as she tried to turn the key, finding that the door was already unlocked. She hadn't expected him to be in at all. Taking out the key, Korra flipped from the first to the smaller second and raised it to another lock higher up on the door, pushing it open a few moments later.

"Mako?" she called as she stepped into the apartment, glancing to the side as she pushed the door closed. She found both his apartment and motorcycle keys hanging from their hooks. She glanced down and saw his shoes sitting on the floor neatly set together.

His voice emerged from the kitchenette. "Korra?"

He appeared shortly afterwards, wiping his hands dry with a small towel. He was still dressed for work, lacking only the jacket that would complete his otherwise sharp ensemble. He wore a dark brown waistcoat over a well-pressed white shirt with a dark striped tie at present hanging loosely around his neck, black and practically creaseless trousers eventually giving way to the white of his socks. Mako was rarely ever tardy with his appearance.

"I didn't expect you back," he said. "I assumed you'd be with Tenzin and his family."

"I could say the same to you," she said, half laughing. "I can't believe they unshackled you from your desk this early."

Mako laughed, though a little uneasily, as he finished drying his hands and draped the towel over his shoulder. Korra found herself to be inexplicably happy to see him.

Unbidden, she thought of all the years they had spent together, of the day in which she had first met him and the trials that they had tackled together since then. He had swiftly and effortlessly worked his way into her life so much so that she could not picture the last four years without him. He became a pillar in her life, she who had always strived to depend solely upon herself and make her own way. He kept her sane in ways she often couldn't vocalise to him, kept her from fostering darker thoughts whenever her frustration bubbled beneath her skin. To simply physically be with him was sometimes all that she needed, to know that he was close and he was hers. She was his just as completely, and it was only as time passed and they both grew more mature that she began to truly grasp the importance of having him in her life.

And now there he was, standing with that typical casual air about himself, at ease with himself and his surroundings. He inspired a sense of confidence and authority, his eyes alive with intelligence. She always remembered the day she had first seen him don this particular ensemble, relinquishing the plain, generic uniform of a green police officer and stepping into the sharp, sophisticated attire that she was unable to draw her eyes from. She had him running late for his first day in a brand new department, needing simply to sate the desire for him that sprung up from a hidden well with forceful intensity.

She called him to her softly and he came, leaning into her touch as she moved her hands to his jaw and drew him to her lips. It was clear that he thought it to merely be a kiss to greet him, his mouth and tongue pausing as she deepened their embrace with meaning, but then he gave himself trustingly to the need that was at present unclear to him. What she needed was nothing complex – simply him, and she let him know when they eventually parted.

"Good evening to you too," he said with an arched brow and smile.

"I'm just happy to see you," Korra told him. "You've finished work, right? Let's go out."

Again, he looked uneasy for a small moment. "I…"

"You haven't finished?" she asked, disappointment creeping up on her.

"No, I don't need to go back to the office," Mako said quickly. "It's just…"

Korra figured that he was planning to devote an evening to paperwork. She would have none of it. He could rant at her in the morning.

"Let's go out," she said again, stifling his attempts to make excuses. "We haven't had the chance in a while. I was thinking we could grab a bite and then head over to the Arena."

He stiffened slightly at that, though she couldn't understand why. "Tonight?" he said.

"Obviously, genius. We can say hello to your brother, maybe talk some sense into him".

"The Fire Ferrets are playing?" he asked quickly. "Wait, talk some sense into Bo? Why?"

"Apparently he's planning on quitting and disbanding the team," Korra said as she turned back towards the door. "Come on. Get your coat back on."

"Korra, wait."

But she had already pulled open the door and stepped into the corridor beyond. Mako merely had to glance towards the row of hooks to know that she took his motorcycle keys along with her.

* * *

"And introducing the Fire Ferrets: Zhao, Lya and Captain, Bolin!"

The Arena roared. The intermingled voices of hundreds joined together to rattle its high walls with unbridled enthusiasm. Banners bearing the emblem of the Fire Ferrets were lifted high above the heads of loyal fans, an uncharacteristically fierce rendition of Pabu making a circuit about the stadium as the three members of the team stepped onto the hexagonal playfield, its length split down the middle by a solid black line and divided into two halves painted vivid hues of blue and red.

Korra stood against the railing of the balcony of a private box, situated above the usual array of seats. She added her own voice to the cacophony as the heavyset Zhao, lithe and slender Lya and the ever charismatic Bolin paid the audience and their fans their dues. They turned through slow circles and lifted their hands in acknowledgement to the crowd. Bolin, of course, went a step further, giving elaborate bows and blowing kisses towards loyal gaggles of fangirls. Korra could only laugh as the volume of the female proportion of the audience climbed suddenly in response.

"And their opponents, the current reigning champions: Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the White Fall Wolfbats!"

If the reaction to the Fire Ferret's entrance had been loud, then that of the Wolfbats' was indeed deafening. Korra couldn't believe they still managed to garner such a response from the crowd. The team swaggered onto the playfield, playing to the audience with a comfortable ease. Korra recognised the three faces of those she had once played across from herself and had later restored bending to. It was almost disorientating to once again witness the persona that the Wolfbats' captain exuded when she had seen him both as a broken, dishevelled man and a wholly thankful individual with an evidently new lease on life. Tahno could be surprisingly humble, she had learned, when he was not standing on the playfield. If she hadn't known him before Amon removed his bending and she had returned it, she would barely have recognised him now.

Arrogance oozed from every pore in his body as he made a full circuit of the playfield, striding right into the Fire Ferret's half with little a care evident upon his face and earning himself an intimidating glare from the team's firebender. Tahno didn't appear to notice it however, for he was far too busy eliciting screams and whistles from the legion of female fans holding his name above their heads bordered with hearts and in one instance, Korra glimpsed, a fully realised image of a wedding in which Tahno and said fan were becoming fully acquainted with each other's lips.

"I thought we wiped that stupid smirk off of his face," Mako muttered as the names of the Wolfbat team members were announced, finally emerging from behind a thick scarlet veil.

Korra's title as the Avatar allowed her certain privileges that she would never have dreamed of asking for in the first place. She would have been quite prepared to sit with the general audience and soak up the atmosphere of the Arena were it not for common sense and the fact that she would likely be mobbed. She had always been seated in a private box whenever she came to watch a match, though in the first few instances, her presence was still announced by the Ring Announcer. On one such occasion Mako was standing alongside her, and close enough that it was clear to those with sharp eyes and quick minds that he was well within her personal space. The crowd had turned to them as Korra's presence was announced and Mako had blushed as red as a tomato at the chants that had quickly risen in response. It took some time for them to calm down and remember that they were here to watch Pro-Bending. Korra and Mako made sure to leave early that night.

From then on, Mako would always wait behind the red veil that shielded a large portion of the box from the eyes of the public until the teams had been announced and the match was about to begin. Korra had long since requested that her presence not be announced by a Ring Announcer, despite the weight of her importance. It wouldn't really be much of a private box if the crowd was keeping one eye on it at all times.

"Some things never change," Korra replied. She glanced across at him, laughing at the sour look on his face as he glared at the Wolfbats' waterbender. He merely grunted in response.

"Come on, lighten up," she told him as she nudged his elbow. "Bolin carries our professional dislike for Tahno. He'll have him in the drink in no time."

"I'd love to do it myself," Mako replied lightly.

"Teams, take your positions!" came the instruction of the overseeing Referee, his assistant standing on a raised platform opposite him on the other side of the playfield. Korra watched as the heavyset Zhao stood opposite the Wolfbats' firebender, Shaozu, the thick black line on the ground between them the only thing stopping their testosterone from physically clashing. Zhao was a hulking, intimidating form and he was practically growling in the face of his opponent, rolling his shoulders as he made small steps back and forth, seemingly forgetting how and when to blink.

"Bolin's picked a bad firebender," Mako said as they watched the two teams stare each other down. "He won't stick to the game plan."

"You watch as many matches as I do," Korra said to him. "You've never seen him play before."

Mako shrugged. "I'm a good judge of character."

"Huh. Then what about the waterbender?" Korra said.

Mako said nothing for a moment as he turned to the young woman, his eyes narrowing by a fraction. "She's technical, precise. She'll see the game plan through."

"I see," Korra said, sensing more from him. "But?"

Mako glanced across at her, his smile crooked. "She lacks your…passion, shall we say."

Korra arched her brow. "Right," she said slowly, dragging out the vowel.

"Teams, ready!"

The opposing team members, perhaps merely politely respectful to one another off the playfield were glaring at each other with all of the hatred and wilful intent that came with the fierce competitiveness of a Pro-Bender. There would be no mercy here, no hesitation. A momentary lapse of concentration or the losing of one's footing would be pounced upon and exploited to its fullest. The air crackled as the roaring crowd and the silent competitors waited impatiently for the single, most important cry of the Referee.

"Begin!"

Korra was deafened even to her own shout high up in the private box as the crowd filled the stadium with its collective voice. Each member of the respective teams darted to their positions quicker than a thought.

Water was swept up from the grates that bordered the first zone and the first disc of clay was pulled into the air. Fire exploded from the clenched fists of Shaozu and Zhao, both attacks swiftly intercepted by water-whips. Bolin took the centre position of the Fire Ferret's formation, holding his disc of clay defensively in front of himself as a second water-whip cracked through the air. The disc exploded into dust underneath the force of the strike, but from their vantage point, Korra was able to see Lya swiftly move across the zone, using the dust as a screen as Bolin moved to her right side and sending a water-whip of her own lancing towards the Wolfbats' earthbender.

The cheer for the Wolfbats' soon drowned out anything as Mako's prediction quickly proved correct. It didn't take long for Korra to notice that Zhao's movements and attacks were not synchronised well with the rest of the team, and that in the moments he could spare Bolin was yelling across at him to form up. Zhao seemed intent on a method that revolved solely around brute force, and while it was soon apparent that he bested Shaozu in that department, his grasp on technique was clearly lacking. Zhao soon found himself knocked back into the third zone, and from there it was evident that the sheer power of each of his strikes was made at the sacrifice of range. He could not support his team effectively from his position. Bolin and Lya managed to coordinate themselves into a more defensive unit in the absence of their primary offensive player, but by the end of the first round both had been pushed back to the second zone.

"What did I tell you?" Mako told her, though he didn't look at her when he spoke, instead appearing to be scanning the crowd below.

"You told me alright," Korra said. "Bolin should know better than to recruit that kind of firebender."

"Must be getting desperate," Mako said.

Korra glanced across at him. "What are you looking for so intently?"

"Hmm? Nothing. Just realised how ridiculous some of these banners are."

Korra laughed in agreement and they both turned their attention back to the playfield as the brief interval drew to a close and the teams took their positions once more.

The second round began and took a nose dive for the Fire Ferrets almost immediately. Korra had to give credit where it was due for how quickly the Wolfbats had picked up on the weakness of Zhao at range and adjusted their strategy to exploit it. The firebender was forced into the second zone within four seconds as Tahno and Shaozu focused their attention on him. Ming, their earthbender, served to defend his teammates in the process. It was almost possible to consider the act unnecessary however. Bolin was forced to desperately try and defend Zhao and was quickly backed up by Lya as the Wolfbats' offence proved relentless. But the firebender soon found his heels against the borders of the third zone once again. Korra gasped along with the crowd, her grip on the balcony railing tightening as Zhao took a disc of clay that seemed to appear from nowhere straight to the chest and was lifted off his feet.

The cheer for the Wolfbats' was resounding as the firebender disappeared into the drink. Korra could barely hear the shouts of support for the Fire Ferrets, her own included. Bolin rallied his remaining teammate as the Wolfbats turned their attention on them, summoning a trio of clay discs and whipping them in quick succession across the playfield. Tahno was knocked off-balance, Lya helping him along into the second zone with a carefully placed shot of water that struck his shin and for a moment took his feet out from beneath him. A retaliatory blast of fire from Shaozu then forced the waterbender to give ground, Bolin unable to raise a defensive disc in time.

Lya's technical prowess soon came to light as Bolin began to act as a wall for her, tanking the majority of the Wolfbats' offence both with well-placed defensive discs and his own stamina. His stance wide and weight centred low, he was able to bear the brunt of continued physical blows. Lya positively danced across the second zone in the meantime, claiming it as her own and moving with the fluid grace that could belong only to a waterbender. Within the space of twenty seconds she racked up a score of seven headshots, glancing, telling blows that served to force the Wolfbats' out of their first zone and allow her and Bolin to progress forward. The crowd grew raucous as her streak continued and the Wolfbats' earthbender soon suffered the same fate as Zhao, Lya's water-whip cracking Ming across the side of the head and sending him spinning off the edge of the playfield. However, Korra was soon to learn what Mako had meant by the young woman's lack of passion.

Tahno and Shaozu upped the ante in the absence of their defensive player, particularly as the effects of tanking so heavily for his waterbender began to tell on Bolin. Korra heard Mako hiss as Bolin persisted in serving as a wall for Lya, taking nothing short of a beating and beginning to noticeably flag. In a fierce, coordinated effort, the remaining Wolfbats pushed Bolin right out of both first zones. He was barely able to defend himself against their continued assault, soon finding himself teetering on the edge of the third and final zone before Tahno managed to land his first and only headshot of the match, though he most certainly made it count.

The crowd gave a collective gasp as Bolin managed to catch the edge of the playfield in his desperate grip, but it was clear that he did not have the strength to pull himself up. Lya would have to forfeit her position to help him. He followed Ming and Zhao into the water.

With less than thirty seconds left in the round, Lya had a tall hill to climb to secure victory and a third round for her team. The Wolfbats bore down on her as Korra was strongly reminded of her own solo efforts when she had been placed in a similar position. She added her voice to the cry of support that was lifted by the crowd. But it was soon clear that she would not be able to persevere. Korra then understood what Mako had deduced with a mere glance.

Lya lacked the hunger to win. She was without that fierce, intense drive that was instilled into Korra from the moment of her birth. She could not truly give herself to the flow of the battle, to surrender herself to pure instinct. Korra watched as the young woman persisted in taking long, precious moments to adjust the line of her shots and analyse the position and formation of the Wolfbats. She was _thinking _when she should have been _fighting_.

The buzzer sounded, heralding the end of the round. Luckily, the Fire Ferrets did not have to suffer the embarrassment of a defeat by full knockout. Lya was pushed to the third zone by the end of the match, but she managed to retain it. Korra could see her breathing hard and heavy as sweat cast a glistening sheen upon her dejected face. The Fire Ferrets had just been knocked out of the tournament.

The crowd was gracious, applauding and cheering the efforts of the team before turning to shake the walls with a deafening shout for the victorious Wolfbats. Korra brought her own hands together for both teams. It had been a well fought match, but she was beginning to see why there were rumours going around that Bolin was planning on quitting the sport. It was strange to see the look of utter disgust on his normally jovial features as he pulled himself up out of the water. He ignored the offered hand of his teammate and walked away without a single backwards glance.

* * *

Korra knocked firmly on the changing room door, Mako standing behind her shoulder with his hands tucked into the pockets of his overcoat.

"I don't know how you got past security," came the slightly muffled voice of Bolin, "but I'm not signing anymore autographs."

Korra shot a smirk over her shoulder as Mako frowned. "Aww, come on," she whined at the door. "I'm your biggest fan!"

"Well, sorry. Go awa – hold on a second…"

The door clicked as it was unlocked and then they heard the tired complaint of its hinges as it was pulled open. Bolin, still dressed in the Fire Ferrets' uniform with the mascot himself sitting on his broad shoulders, stood in the doorway. His face brightened immediately as he saw them.

"Korra!"

Before she could get her own verbal greeting out, he had stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. She learned then that Bolin was most definitely taking on the typical physique attributed to male earthbenders, naturally conditioning his body in a manner that reflected the qualities of the element he wielded. He all but squeezed the breath from her chest and she choked out a laugh and gasped his name at the same time. Pabu squeaked from his perch on his shoulder just as Mako stepped into the room and pried his brother off her.

"Oh. Oops," Bolin said, grinning sheepishly as he released her. "Sorry about that."

Korra lifted a hand and waved away his apology as she pulled air back into her lungs, breathing deeply as she chuckled. "Don't worry about it."

"Hey bro," Bolin directed at Mako as his brother pushed the door closed. "I didn't know you two were coming tonight."

"I didn't even know the Fire Ferrets were playing today until a few hours ago," Korra said as she straightened. "And Mako managed to finish work early for a change, so I thought we'd drop by."

"Mako finished early?" Bolin said with disbelief, turning to his brother. "I thought they had you chained to your desk."

"Charming," Mako replied in a dry tone as Korra burst into laughter. "Anyway, what this I'm hearing about you quitting?" he asked as he moved and walked towards the small balcony overlooking the stadium. The crowd was milling around as the playfield was prepared for the next match, a sea of bodies and banners that produced a constant hum of noise.

"Yeah, about that," Korra said, picking up the change of topic and poking Bolin in the chest. "Ikki tells me there's a rumour going around that you're packing up the team."

"Ikki?" Bolin repeated. "I haven't seen those kids in a while, huh."

"They miss you," Korra told him. "Both of you, actually," she added.

Mako merely shrugged and offered a grimace. "We're all busy," he said, his voice trailing off as he turned back to watch the crowd. Bolin merely scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"So?" Korra prompted him. "Is it true?"

Bolin frowned before he spoke. "It's not the same," he said simply. "It hasn't been since you guys left."

"But didn't you win the tournament…last season?" Korra tried to remember.

"Two seasons ago," Bolin and his brother corrected her at the same time. Korra refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Okay, fine. But the point is you won the tournament. We didn't manage that when we were all still a team."

Bolin shrugged. "It felt hollow," he told her. "I think you guys spoiled me, particularly after you joined the team, Korra." He gestured aimlessly for a few moments, clearly trying to find the find the right words. "There was a certain kind of…flow, when we were all together. It felt natural. We always knew where to be, where to attack, when to defend. We didn't think about it, we just…knew what to do. That's gone now," he sighed. "Now it's all becoming way too technical," he said with a tone of distaste.

"Well, you know you're not going to get far without a plan," Korra told him.

"Yeah, I know. But with us, the game plan felt organic. It just fit, and we could adapt it on the fly. A lot's changed in the last few years in Pro-Bending, Korra. Now we have 'experts'," and he lifted his hands to draw the quotes in the air as he spoke, "running around coming up with apparently guaranteed strategies for success. You saw Lya, right? She's like that. Very technical but lacks that…I don't know."

"Passion?" Korra suggested, smiling crookedly as she glanced across at Mako.

"Do your teammates know how you feel?" Mako said, seemingly feeling Korra's eyes on his back and turning away from the stadium to face them.

"They will soon. This is the last time I'm going to be playing under this roof."

"But what about all your fans?" Korra reminded him in a playful tone. "Ikki loves listening to the Fire Ferrets' matches."

"Really?" Bolin said, smiling. "Ah, well…I guess that's unfortunate. My head's not in this anymore."

"And there's nothing anyone can say to change your mind."

Bolin shook his head. "Not this time."

"So what will you do now?" Korra asked.

"I'm thinking I'll apply for the metalbending courses…"

"Oh? This is news," Mako said, turning away from the buzzing crowd. "You want to join the force?"

"Nah, at least not right now," Bolin told him. "There are other options for metalbenders besides that. I just want to see if I qualify first."

"Bolin the metalbender," Korra said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "I think it would work out for you."

"Now that I have the Avatar's blessing, I'm sure it will," Bolin laughed.

She joined in, turning to find Mako once again scanning the crowd with a narrowed gaze and his lips pressed into a thin line. She went to stand next to him as Bolin moved over to a locker, her presence apparently startling him as he gave a small jump. "What's so interesting down there?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I'm just wondering which teams are on next."

Korra pointed to the large, rectangular poster hanging on the wall at the far side of the stadium, the names of two teams emblazoned quite plainly for all to see.

"Ah," Mako said, avoiding her eyes. "I didn't see that."

His tone of voice was strange, she thought, but she didn't get the chance to push for an explanation for his behaviour because Bolin appeared behind them, suddenly animated.

"Guys, I've just had the best idea."

"What is it?" Korra asked. She turned and paused when she saw Bolin standing there with a pair of helmets in each hand and the widest of grins on his face.

"Let's show Republic City what the _real_ Fire Ferrets are all about, one last time."

Mako turned at this, frowning at his brother. "Bo, you know we can't."

"Come on! You know you want to."

"Even _if _I wanted to, I'm not conditioned for it anymore."

"Oh please," Bolin said, waving his helmet-laden hand at his brother. "Now you're just making excuses. Korra?" he said turning to her.

She smiled wistfully. "I'm the Avatar, Bolin."

"You were the Avatar before too," he argued, "and that didn't stop you."

"Right, but I'm just a _little_ bit better at what I do now," she laughed.

"Come on!" he said again, trying to rally them. "Don't you want to give the Fire Ferrets a proper send off? We could go out there and challenge the Wolfbats to one last rematch. The crowd would go nuts and there'd be no way the officials could disallow it. I know how much you both want to see Tahno in the drink," he sang, Pabu squeaking his support as Mako's frown deepened.

"Hmm. I'm tempted…" Korra trailed off, though she took one of the helmets from Bolin, causing his smile to widen further. There came a knock on the door a moment later, the monotone call of "towels" following after. Bolin practically skipped over to pull it open and admit the towel boy as Korra turned the helmet between her hands.

"What do you think?" she said, turning to Mako. But she found that he was not looking at her.

His eyes were fixed on the towel boy as he pushed a small trolley into the room, a pile of clean towels sitting neatly on top of it whilst their not so clean counterparts were stuffed into a round container on the trolley's lower tray. The young man kept his head down and eyes averted as he made his rounds around the small changing rooms. Korra couldn't tell why Mako was glaring at him so fiercely.

As Bolin bounded back over to them something made her turn and face the crowd. It seemed that the playfield had been prepared for the next match and the audience was moving more purposefully to retake their seats after returning from food vendors and trips to the toilet. But there was something that caught her eye, a particular ripple of movement that seemed far too co-ordinated within the general tumult of hundreds of bodies pushing past one another. And then not a moment after she had identified this, the Arena was thrust headfirst into chaos.

The towel boy, who had been lingering in a corner of the room seemingly tidying up the contents of the trolley, suddenly pulled a pair of bulky gloves from the depths of the dirty heap, filling the room with the crackle of electricity. In the same moment, Mako leapt forward, startling Korra as he launched himself across the room and tackled the young man before he could make his first move. Their tussle was brief, Mako kicking his feet from underneath him and stamping on his wrist as he made to lift his right arm. The snap of bones was plainly audible, reverberating off the cold walls. He then pinned the young man to the ground, dropping his knee onto his chest and gripping his left wrist, holding it away to the side as her birthed a roaring flame in the palm of his right hand.

"Don't move!" Mako yelled in the man's face as he attempted to struggle beneath him. It had been a long time since Korra had heard such open ferocity in his voice.

Her mind had gone blank and her jaw slack as she turned to the crowd, barely hearing Mako tell the man he was being placed under arrest. She was barely aware of Bolin at her back, just as startled and at a loss as she was as she gripped the iron railing hard in her hands. Within the throng of bodies, she could see police officers – both plain-clothed and uniformed – manhandling members of the crowd to the ground. She glimpsed a brief fight between a slim, hawk-eyed woman wielding electric gloves and a plain-clothed metalbender, who had hidden the device containing the spool of cables beneath a thick jacket with wide sleeves. The metalbender swiftly overpowered the woman, looping his cables about her wrists and roughly pulling her forwards into his row of seats.

The cry of panic lifted by the crowd became a collective scream as glass panels in the domed roof shattered over the water pit and uniformed officers rappelled down into the Arena. A group of men and women had gathered underneath the radio broadcasting booth, forcing their way through the crowd to spill out into open battle with the police officers. Korra couldn't move, not knowing which way to turn as all around her chaos erupted and Equalists patiently biding their time and sitting amongst the crowd quickly revealed their true colours. But it was apparent that the police had known both of their presence and plan beforehand, for just as Mako had apprehended the Equalist posing as a towel boy, she watched officers left and right taking down Equalists before they could reach for their hidden weapons.

Her grip on the railing only tightened as she watched the Equalist effort quickly flag and begin to fall apart. Her feet refused to leave the ground as a voice at the back of her mind screamed at her to take action when she saw Equalists attempting to flee the Arena, only to be intercepted by officers lying in wait at the exits. A powerful voice boomed through the stadium as the crowd shrieked, one she slowly grew to recognise as belonging to Chief Feng. Her mind was made sluggish in the wake of the complete shock that had overtaken her.

"Citizens of Republic City, please remain calm. Do not obstruct the police officers as they move among you. An Equalist plot has been discovered, threatening public safety. But we have everything under control. I repeat, please remain calm…"

Korra finally managed to release the handrail and turn as she heard Mako hauling the Equalist to his feet, the young man hissing in distress as his hands were clamped behind his back with thick, steel handcuffs. The sound of numerous feet treading upon the ground reached her ear and she not long afterwards witnessed several police officers streaming past the changing room. Two metalbenders broke away from the group and pushed through the door, immediately turning to Mako and their would-be assailant.

"Identify yourself," one of them instructed, both lifting their arms and pointing with intent. Mako was already in the process of retrieving his wallet from an inner pocket, flipping it open for inspection.

"Well met, Detective," the first metalbender spoke. "This is another one of them I assume."

Mako nodded. "Tai Lokhan, 19," he told them as he returned his wallet to its pocket and pushed the young man forward. "Posing as a towel boy."

"Looks like your plans didn't come to fruition, kid," the metalbender sneered.

"Fuck you," he spat vehemently. The officers only laughed.

"We'll see if you're brave enough to say that to your fellow inmates. I hear they like 'em young."

They didn't appear to notice either her or Bolin as Mako handed the young man off to the officers. The metalbender who had not spoken during the exchange glanced over his shoulder as they led the Equalist from the room, his eyes falling on her without lighting up with recognition and lips curving into a momentary leer. Mako turned to them as the officers departed, briefly lifting his hands to turn down his ruffled collar.

"Are you two alright?"

"Uh…yeah, bro," Bolin managed. "That…this was unexpected," he said, glancing towards the stadium itself.

"Korra?" Mako said, turning to her and furrowing his brow at her expression. "You look –"

"What the _hell_ is going on?" she demanded, throwing her voice so fiercely at him that he took a physical step backwards.

Mako gestured behind her. "It's just like the Chief said: we've been investigating the Equalists' plans for weeks. We knew they were up to something big. They've been planning a spectacle to push themselves back into the public eye and we only managed to pin down a few hours ago where and when exactly it was taking place."

"And this is how you deal with it?" Korra said as she gestured behind herself. "You expose hundreds of innocent people to a potentially life threatening risk?"

"We needed to maintain the illusion that we didn't know what the Equalists were up to," Mako said with a defensive tone. "We had to make sure all our officers knew the plan and who exactly we were after, and were in their proper positions when the time came."

"So you knew," Korra said stepping towards him, Bolin all but forgotten. "You knew this was happening tonight and you didn't tell me even after I said I wanted to come here. You didn't even tell your own brother about the risk he was putting himself in by being here."

"We were ordered not to tell anyone –"

"_We_ are not just _anyone,_" Korra cut across him while gesturing to his brother, "and _I_ am the Avatar. I _should_ have been told about this. Move," she said curtly as she stepped between the brothers, pushing past Mako as she made for the door.

"Wait. Korra, where are you going?"

"To find your superior," she returned before turning into the corridor.

"Oh damn," Mako cursed, moving to follow her before remembering Bolin. "Bo, you'd better get out of here before the place gets locked down. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah sure," his brother replied, but Mako was barely listening as he swiftly left the room.

* * *

She found him in the radio broadcasting booth, having apparently evicted its regular host so that it could be used as a temporary command post. The booth overlooked the entire stadium, aside from the private boxes and front row seats one of the best views in the Arena. A pair of officers were standing at the door, and their faces wore identical expressions of surprise as she turned the corner and approached them.

"Avatar Korra," the man to the left spoke, respectfully inclining his head to her.

"Chief Feng is in there, yes?"

"That is so, Avatar. But he –"

"I want to speak to him," Korra said, her tone brooking no argument.

"I…I'm not sure if I should –"

"Well I am sure," Korra said plainly. "And if you continue to obstruct my path, I will move you myself."

The two men could only glance uncertainly at each other as she stepped forwards, reaching for the door handle and pushing it open. Chief Feng was sitting at the broadcaster's desk, engaged in conversation over the telephone. He turned in his seat when the door was flung open, his expression blank for a long moment as he found Korra standing there glaring at him.

"I'm busy, Avatar," he said, holding the candlestick stand of the telephone away from his mouth. "And I instructed my men that I was not to be interrupted," he added with a raised voice.

Korra pushed the door shut behind her. "I instructed them otherwise."

Feng's eyes narrowed. "I don't appreciate you giving orders to my officers."

"And I don't appreciate being kept uninformed about police operations of this nature."

Feng paused for a moment before lifting the telephone to his mouth and listening device to his ear. "One moment, Councilman…yes, my apologies. I have an unexpected visitor." He set the telephone down and turned to Korra. "I hope you're prepared to explain to the Council why you feel it is necessary to have delayed my report, Avatar."

"You're going to explain to me why I was kept in the dark about an operation of this scale, Chief Feng, particularly after we were both present in the same meeting this morning."

Feng arched his dark, thick brow, folding his arms as he regarded her. "The operation did not exist until early this afternoon, and you were not required to be involved. We're dealing with Equalists, not rampant benders."

"It doesn't matter who or what you are dealing with," Korra said. "And on whose authority did you conduct this operation, putting at risks the lives of hundreds of citizens as well those of the competing teams. Yours?"

Feng barely suppressed a snarl at her suggestion. "I called an emergency meeting with the Council, _Avatar. _We convened and they gave their permission for the operation to be carried out. They, at least, understood its necessity."

Korra heard his unspoken jibe. At the same time she now knew why Tenzin had needed to leave during their session of meditation. "So the Council knew as well. The Council and the Police, but not the Avatar."

"As I said before, it wasn't necessary to include you," Feng said tonelessly. "We had more than enough resources to commit to this operation."

"That isn't the point," Korra argued, barely containing her growing anger and preventing herself from balling her fists. "There is a _principle_. If you didn't want me to take part in the operation then I would respect that decision, but regardless I should have been informed. The situation could have easily spiralled beyond your control –"

"As you can see," Feng interrupted, "we already have _everything_ under control."

"I'm the Avatar," Korra said, "and I have as much expectation – if not more – than the Police to protect the people of this city. I cannot do myduty if I am not kept informed as to what is going on. I don't care whether it is concerning benders or Equalists, something of _this_ scale," she gestured towards the window of the booth, "is most certainly worthy of my attention. We both know, Chief Feng, that if something were to go wrong you would attempt to shift blame onto me, and as I told you this morning I will _not _be your scapegoat."

"I will not sit by and let you casually insult the efforts of my officers, Avatar," Feng said coldly as he stood to his feet. "The Police force existed long before you stepped foot in Republic City, maintaining law and order through its streets. Those men and women are more than competent. They are heroic in their actions and dedicated to serving the needs of the people. I will not have some self-entitled, supposedly supernatural woman who has barely lived besmirching their name."

Korra did not say a word in reply, nor dare to move for a long moment lest she give in to her nature and lash out at the man in front of her. That would be far from appropriate, even if she could not think of any way in which Feng did not deserve it. She instead drew the reins tight on her anger, pressing her lips together as she clenched her teeth hard behind them. If the Chief's eyes were frosty as he glared at her, then hers were a barely restrained blaze as she met his gaze.

"I've had enough of this," Korra said eventually. She pulled her eyes from his and turned away before further words spilled from her lips. "Finish your report to the Council."

She pulled the door open and stepped outside the booth, catching the officers straightening quickly and looking away as she spared a moment to glance across at them. She swiftly made her way outside of the Arena altogether, pushing her way through the officers and general public who had yet to be fully escorted from the building. At one point she heard her name called out by a familiar voice, but walked on as though she had not.

When she finally made it beyond the tall doors of the Arena's entrance she found to her great annoyance a raucous group of reporters gathered there, at the moment held at bay from pressing into the building by a staunch line of officers. Korra mentally berated herself for not having left the Arena by a secondary entrance as the reporters almost instantly recognised her and pushed forward into the police line with renewed vigour, thrusting the bulbous heads of microphones over and beneath outstretched arms as they shouted over each other.

Korra had enough common sense not to step out into their midst, but it began to dawn on her that she had no means of transport and little idea where she wanted to go besides that. It was only when she stood with her arms folded and lips pursed that she looked through a gap in the gaggle of reporters and saw a taxi rank on the other side of the street. It would have to do. It would also mean having to subject herself to the reporters' barrage.

"Would you mind escorting me to a taxi?" she asked two officers as she approached the police line. The man and woman in question spoke but she barely heard them over the noise, so instead they nodded. Speaking briefly with the officers to either side of them, they stepped out of the line. It quickly reformed behind them. Sticking close to her side, they helped her push through the gathered crowd, but the reporters were resilient and persistent.

"Avatar Korra, can you tell us what went on in the Arena tonight?"

"How were you involved in the Police operation?"

"We've heard there to be numerous injuries sustained by members of the public…"

"Why wasn't there any forewarning made to the public regarding this threat?"

"Were you aware of the Equalist extremists' plans?"

"I knew nothing!" Korra said sharply, the voices of the reporters grating on her patience and the blinding lights of flashing cameras searing into her vision. She was jostled from every side, the swell of bodies pressing in around her and the escorting officers. "Now get out of my way!"

Even amidst the commotion, her voice was powerful and her tone notably angry. The crowd seemed to have second thoughts about pestering her for a brief moment, enabling her and her escort to push past them. When she eventually made it over to a taxi, the driver moved away from the kerb before she could even think to tell him of her destination. She didn't need to look to see the reporters attempting to chase her down, no matter how futile the effort as their questions floated through the air after her. Korra closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to their corners, breathing a heavy sigh and for the moment not even caring where the driver was taking her. She opened her eyes, however, when she heard him speak.

"Where to, ma'am?"

She stared at the back of the man's head in disbelief. "Takka?"

"Aye", he replied, lifting a hand from the wheel to tip his hat.

Truthfully, she shouldn't have been surprised. Takka was a member of the Order of the White Lotus, one of the number who had been sent over from the South Pole four years prior when she had escaped the compound and travelled to Republic City. Even if she was a fully realised Avatar, the duty of the Order to protect her did not change. She didn't like to acknowledge the fact that she knew the Order still had her followed when she was not on Air Temple Island. Takka was, for the time being, simply the more visible face of the shadows that would tail her for the rest of her life.

"Take me to the harbour," she told him.

"Not staying in the city tonight, ma'am?" he asked, and by that she knew he meant Mako's apartment.

"No, not tonight," she replied, though she was aware of the weight of the key in her pocket. "And stop calling me 'ma'am', Takka."

"Aye, ma'am."


	3. Chapter 3

The morning light spilled through the window and decorated the ruffled sheets with wavering golden lines, carrying with it a gentle warmth that would fall softly upon the skin and tease one gradually from the land of dreams. However, the bed was empty, its occupant having tossed and turned throughout the night, sleep evading her. A prickly undercurrent of emotion ran just beneath her skin, an itch she could not reach. The sun rose from its own resting place to find Korra sitting at the foot of the bed, one knee drawn up towards her chest as her arms hung loosely at her sides. Her eyes were lifted to the plain ceiling, the edge of her vision hazy with the desire to rest, yet no matter how she laid her head against her pillow her body would refuse to succumb.

There was a knock on her door, followed by a voice she knew. "Korra?"

She recognised it as Pema, calling to her softly in case she was still asleep. She had last spoken to her the night before, when she had been on a single-minded hunt for Tenzin, wanting nothing more than to demand an explanation from him. No sooner did Korra step onto the island was she greeted by Ikki and Jinora, their brothers already having been sent to bed – though that did not necessarily mean they were sleeping. Their mother was not far behind, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders to protect from the slight chill in the air that her daughters apparently could not feel.

_"Korra!" Ikki cried. "Are you alright?"_

_"We heard what was happening over the radio," Jinora supplied. "At least until the broadcast stopped."_

_"I'm fine," Korra said shortly. Her tone lacked the familiar warmth that they were used to, instead possessing a slight edge. She could tell by the look in their eyes that they knew something was amiss. She offered them a brief smile that did not reach her gaze. She looked over their heads as their mother approached, pulling a shawl about herself._

_"Korra, thank goodness," Pema said with a tone of relief. "I'm glad to see you're alright. The kids told me you had gone to the Arena tonight."_

_"Where is Tenzin?" Korra asked as though she hadn't heard a word Pema had spoken. She gave the older woman the same brief curve of her mouth that she had offered Ikki and Jinora, both of whom were looking between their mother and adopted sister._

_"He's not here at the moment," Pema said. "Let's go inside, Korra, the air is a little –"_

_"Where is he?" Korra said. "I want to speak to him."_

_Pema looked surprised at the interruption, but she answered a few moments later. "I assume – well, I'd _hope _he is still at City Hall. Korra? Where are you going?"_

_Korra had turned on her heel the moment Pema gave her the answer. She barely looked over her shoulder as she replied to the woman, heading back down towards the path that led to the pier at the edge of the island._

_"To talk to Tenzin."_

_Pema's intuition kicked in fully as she heard Korra's tone and listened to the small snap with which she spoke. A voice at the back of her mind had made her uneasy the moment she saw the young woman meet with her children and not greet them with the typical displays of affection she was prone to. Her eyes were hard and her lips pressed thin as she spoke her husband's name. Pema pushed between her daughters and darted forward, grasping Korra's upper arm as she made to stride away._

_"Korra, wait."_

_Korra did not turn to her immediately. When she did, she glanced down at Pema's hand before looking up at her with carefully shielded eyes._

_"What's wrong?" Pema asked. "What's happened, Korra?"_

_"Nothing. I just need to speak to Tenzin."_

_"Judging by your tone and that look in your eye, I don't think it's a casual conversation you're after."_

_"You're right. It isn't," Korra said. "I want answers, and Tenzin is going to give them to me."_

_Pema pursed her lips in a moment of thought, searching the young woman's eyes. Korra's gaze was far too expressive for her to truly hide her feelings, and Pema had years of experience in seeking the truth from one's eyes, whether they be her husband's or children's. Korra was angry. Even if she hadn't been able to see it in her eyes or hear it in her voice, Pema would have seen it in the way Korra held herself. At the back of her mind was nestled a catalogue of behaviours for the young woman that sat alongside her own children's. It would be foolish for her to try and directly tell Korra that she shouldn't go. Over the years she had felt the pride of a mother as she watched Korra mature and grow, but yet still her stubbornness remained. To tell her not to would only make her want to all the more._

_"Perhaps this is not such a good idea right now," Pema said quietly. "I can see that something has upset you – you don't need to tell me what, but after what has happened tonight, I would bet that there are a dozen or so reporters hanging around City Hall who would love to see an argument between you and Tenzin."_

_"Right now, I don't care," Korra returned hotly._

_"Korra, please listen. You're the Avatar. There is an image that people associate with you and it's important that you uphold that image. It would do you no good to be plastered across the front pages of tomorrow's newspaper openly arguing with a Council member."_

_"Tenzin owes me answers," Korra said. "The whole damn Council owes me answers."_

_"Korra," Pema spoke her name sternly, turning her head to the side to indicate the presence of her children. Ikki and Jinora stood close to one another, not a sound emerging from either of them as they looked on. Korra turned her eyes aside and glared into the night._

_"Listen to me, Korra," Pema said as she released the young woman's arm. "Please."_

_Korra turned back to her after a long moment. "I'm listening."_

_"Oftentimes, a good idea will not seem so inviting after a good night's sleep," Pema said. "Tenzin will have returned by morning. I made him promise me that at least. I don't know what it is you need to discuss with him, but I think it's better that you do it in the privacy of our home and _after _you have had some time to think over it."_

_For a moment, Korra looked as though she was ready to disregard everything Pema had said and head back towards the city. But then Pema saw her glance over her shoulder at her daughters, her eyes softening a little. In the end, Korra gave an irritable sigh and muttered that she would stay._

_"Good," Pema told her, patting her arm. "I'll make sure the kids don't bother you."_

_Korra grunted in a typically adolescent fashion, bringing a small smile to Pema's lips as she recognised the sound. It sounded just like Jinora…_

Korra reckoned that if it hadn't been for Jinora and Ikki standing there behind their mother, she would have ignored Pema's advice and gone to no doubt make a fool of herself. She was without the good night of sleep that Pema had prescribed, but the heat of her anger had somewhat abated. She was then able to consider her thoughts a little more coherently. When she had looked and seen the two young girls who thought of her as their sister, she knew that to walk away from their mother after the exchange they no doubt overheard would have been irresponsible of her. She knew they looked up to her and always tried to show them only the best of herself.

Ikki had looked anxious as she watched them. Korra had never been truly angry around them, though sometimes the airbending children's antics did serve to test her patience. Korra saw a little more understanding in Jinora's eyes, but at the same time she hadn't seen Korra like that before either. When Korra had greeted them, her eyes were hard and her voice cool. Korra had looked at them as Pema offered her a choice and her advice, seeing their innocence and impressionability as well as her own inadvertently undertaken responsibility as a role model. She couldn't walk away after that.

She had only spoken with them briefly as Pema led them all back into the house, but part of her felt better for the choice she had made. Without their mother needing to tell them, Jinora and Ikki had not tried to pull her into a longer conversation, reading her mood despite the smile she put on for them. She could see in their eyes that they were happy she had decided to stay the night, even if she went that night with hardly any sleep and barely a spoken word to anyone.

"I'm awake," she answered to Pema.

The door of her room was pushed open, Pema's eyes naturally turning to the bed but then doing a double take as she found Korra instead sitting at its feet. Her morning greeting paused halfway, her voice taking on a tone of surprise.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "The bed didn't agree with me."

"Don't tell me you slept on the floor," Pema said.

Korra shook her head. "Sleep didn't agree with me either."

She could practically hear Pema pursing her lips before she spoke again.

"Tenzin is back. Apparently, he needs to speak to _you. _But if you want a few more hours to try and get some sleep…"

"I've been trying to convince myself to fall asleep all night," Korra said as she roused herself and stood to her feet. "I must be allergic to the idea."

"Hmm," was all Pema said in reply as she looked Korra up and down. "Well, I'm not letting you two have at it without getting some breakfast in you first. And do try to leave my husband in one piece, Korra."

Korra brought a small smile to her lips in acknowledgement of Pema's effort to lighten her mood. After washing up and being treated to a bowl of freshly peeled lychee, Pema then permitted her husband to enter the family's dining room also. Tenzin looked as tired as Korra felt. He was clutching a folded newspaper in his hand as he stepped into the room and all three of them were acutely aware of the tension that seemed to filter in along with him. Tenzin brought himself to the low table and sat perpendicular to Korra. Pema hovered over them both, looking between them apprehensively.

"The children are still asleep," she told them. "Whatever you need to discuss, don't wake up the house with it."

As she left, pulling the door shut behind them, Korra looked up at Tenzin, feeling the heat of her emotions simmering beneath her skin. She kept her hands on the table, interlacing her fingers as she would do when sitting in on a meeting. Tenzin unfolded and opened the newspaper after a moment and laid it out in front of her.

"What is this?" he said without greeting, his adopted tone that of a frustrated mentor.

Korra looked down. She smirked, but not in amusement, remembering Pema's words from the night before. Her face was spread across the second inner page of the newspaper, a clearly angered and impatient expression shown to the cameras beneath the bold print of the words: _Avatar Kept Out Of The Loop?_

"It's a newspaper article," she told her mentor in a dry tone.

"I'm aware of that," Tenzin responded, and she heard his efforts to keep his voice level. He pushed the newspaper closer to her, resting his fingertip on her picture right between her eyes. "What is _this?"_

The shot that the newspaper's editor had chosen captured her, she recognised, in the moment in which she answered to one of the reporter's questions. There had been a dozen cameras flashing in her face at the time, and her ire had been fierce as white spots burned themselves into her vision. In the picture, her face and eyes were illuminated by those bright flashes. Korra was inwardly surprised that Tenzin had seen beyond them and was able to perceive what was really going on in the image. A quick scan of the page told her that the editor and article's author had not. But she didn't feel like playing easily into his hands, and was certainly not going to sit there and let him lecture her.

"A picture."

"Your eyes," Tenzin said impatiently, meeting them as she looked up at him.

Korra shrugged. "What about them?"

"This is not simply the flash of a camera or two reflecting in your eyes, Korra. _This _is the Avatar state."

Indeed; that was what it had been. To make herself and her thinning tolerance for the reporters heard, she very briefly tapped into the Avatar state to amplify her voice above theirs, knowing that in the storm of flashing cameras what she had done would be hidden from them. Her mentor, of course, was apparently not so easily fooled.

"I wanted them out of my way," Korra said. "So I made myself heard."

"We have had this discussion before," Tenzin said sternly. "The Avatar state is not a toy, and it most _certainly_ is not meant to be used as tool of intimidation."

"I know what it is and what it isn't," Korra said, "and when you have little more to do than attend meetings or spend your time trying to pry answers from the lips of the damn spirits, you tend to find other ways to entertain yourself. You learn a trick or two."

"A trick or two?" Tenzin repeated incredulously. "Do you still not understand the significance of the Avatar State? Not only is it the power of the four elements exemplified, but it also serves as an anchor, a spiritual connection between you and –"

"I don't need reminding. Stop trying to lecture me about something I understand better than you do," Korra interrupted him. "Do you think I've been twiddling my thumbs while meditating for the last four years? Are you still going to treat me like the seventeen year old who barely knew what she was?"

"My father was the Avatar," Tenzin said, his blue-grey eyes hard, "and I made it my business to learn as much as I could from him."

"Well, guess what: learning _from _the Avatar and learning _as_ the Avatar are two very different things. So," Korra said as she moved her hands and flipped through the newspaper until it displayed its front page, turning it around to face Tenzin. "How about we stop wasting time and you explain _this_ to me."

Tenzin looked down to the newspaper, though his eyes did not linger long there before he lifted his gaze back up to meet Korra's. "What must I explain to you? You were there, evidently."

"Exactly," Korra said, "I was there. Except I, like every other average person in the Arena at the time, had utterly no idea what was going to take place. You, on the other hand, did, along with the rest of the Council. You were all called to a meeting with Chief Feng yesterday afternoon, and apparently you all agreed that the operation was none of the Avatar's business."

"You were meditating," Tenzin said, "and you already know how I feel about interrupting you during that time. It is vital for the Avatar to connect with the spiritual realm –"

"I _am_ connected," Korra seethed. "We've been at this for four years, Tenzin. I don't understand how you could think that an event with real world implications takes less precedence than yet another trip into myself where I stand around for hours upon end waiting for my predecessor to show up."

"As the Avatar, your priorities are different. Your purpose is not solely to physically protect the city and its inhabitants. That is the responsibility of the Police, and despite what you may think, they are capable."

"Anything could have gone wrong with an operation of that scale," Korra argued. "Even if I wasn't to be involved, I should have been informed."

Tenzin gave a weary sigh, pausing for a moment to rub the corners of his eyes.

"Korra, even if you were informed and something had gone wrong, what precisely would you have done? The Police operation placed an emphasis on minimalizing the use of bending against the Equalists. The officers who were a part of that operation are trained to apprehend suspects in such a fashion. The last thing we needed was for the Equalists – extremist or otherwise – to be given more of a reason to claim that non-benders are being oppressed."

"How could they have claimed such nonsense in the face of their actions?" Korra said. "And what exactly are you suggesting I would have done?"

"You are not trained to apprehend," Tenzin told her. "You fight to win, and that wouldn't be an appropriate way in which to deal with Equalists in particular."

There was a small part of her that had to concede the truth of his words, but that part of herself spoke with a quiet voice. When she grew heated she grew stubborn, and the second thought that came to her mind in the wake of Tenzin's words was the way in which Mako had dealt with the disguised Equalist. The young man had been wincing painfully as Mako dragged his hands behind his back and cuffed him. Korra wasn't inclined to think that police officers were trained to break suspects' wrists.

"I am not what I was four years ago," Korra told him. "Beyond that, I'm the Avatar. Do you really think I have such little control over myself? That I wouldn't understand the possible implications and rein myself in were I required to fight Equalists?"

Tenzin did not answer her at once, and she found that his hesitation cut her deeply. Instead of speaking, he appeared to appraise her, his gaze constant but his tongue failing to utter words. For Korra, it was enough that he did not speak. Tenzin still thought she was the impulsive, naïve teenager who had always struck first and never bothered with the follow-up questions. Pema saved her husband the need to try and respond to Korra by pushing the door open just as Tenzin finally opened his mouth.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said to both of them as they turned to her, "but there is a call for you, Tenzin. From the Council," she answered to his questioning gaze. Tenzin nodded as he pulled himself to his feet, sparing a moment to rearrange his robes before following his wife.

"I'll be back shortly," he said to Korra, but she didn't lift her head to acknowledge him.

Korra looked down to the newspaper as the door was quietly pulled shut, turning it around to face her. The central image of the front page featured a wide shot of the Arena, several police vans occupying the road as numerous police officers led Equalists from the building. Her eyes lingered on it for a moment before she flipped back to the page upon which she was featured, finding that she could not keep her eyes upon her own image for too long. The cameras had caught her practically snarling.

As the silence of the room enveloped her, Korra lifted her hands to her brow, casting a shadow over her eyes. Tenzin didn't understand. He didn't understand because she would not tell him, and she knew that even if she did, he would more than likely have answers prepared for her that she wouldn't like.

In the days of Amon's revolution, she was a force to be reckoned with, a constant threat that remained in the minds of the Equalists and their leader. When a problem arose, she rose to meet it. There were no questions, no procrastinating to discuss whether or not she was capable. The people actively called on her to rid their great city of the pestilence that sought to tear it down. But once she had done so, once she had truly come into her own as the Avatar…

Sometimes she wondered if this life she now led had been preluded by what occurred when she first stepped foot in Republic City. Under Amon, the Equalist threat was something that proved itself to be beyond the reach of the Police. It had almost proved to be beyond her own reach. But where Amon was not concerned, the Police Force was eager to assert itself. She discovered this when she had fought the members of the Triple Threats she crossed paths with within her first few hours of being in the city, but had not then understood its significance.

In the wake of Amon's defeat and the apparent crumbling of the Equalist movement, the combined efforts of the Police Force in re-establishing its authority and Tenzin's persistence in drawing her away from the city to instruct her in the ways of airbending and meditation left her in a position she could not fully grasp. It sometimes seemed as though she was being shaped to become a figurehead, her sense of authority merely symbolic and the reach of her influence never far enough to actively make an impact.

In the days immediately following her return from the South Pole as a fully realised Avatar, she found herself repeatedly turned away by Chief Saikhan when offering her help, and often called by the Council to attend public assemblies, being required to return bending to those who it had been stripped from. It surprised her to learn just how many people Amon had managed to reach.

It did not take long before she found herself, in her eyes, relegated to the side-lines. As time went on and she became more aware of what was going on in the city, she found herself constantly held back by the Council, the Police and Tenzin. In her heart, she knew she was not meant to merely become a resident of City Hall. Her place was to be on the streets, making the changes where they truly mattered.

The door was pushed open and Tenzin stepped into the room. Korra looked up, lowering her hands and emerging from her thoughts to see a grave expression on her mentor's face that had little to do with their prior argument.

"What is it?" she asked him as he stood in the doorway.

"There has been another murder, assumed to have been perpetrated by the same firebender," he answered after a long moment. "The victim is a young Water Tribe woman."

Korra was silent, her hands still as they flat upon the table. "Again," she said eventually.

"The Council is calling in Chief Feng to discuss the Police's next course of action."

"I'm coming," Korra said immediately, rising to her feet. She almost expected some sort of disagreement from Tenzin, but the man merely nodded his head. She followed him out the door.

* * *

For the second time in the space of twenty-four hours, Korra found herself beneath the roof of City Hall, its cold and sterile walls serving to give her the impression that she was trapped within it. But for once she was distracted from the monotony of her surroundings and the typical sense of irritation that rose to prickle along her skin whenever she was here. Instead, her eyes were focused upon the images before her, several photographs which were printed in colour unlike the images of the Agni Kai triad members she had perused the day before. What she was seeing became ever more stark and vivid because of it.

"The body was discovered early this morning," Chief Feng was saying in response to a Council member's question. Korra wasn't paying enough attention to identify which one. Her eyes had not left the photographs since they were put before her. Unconsciously, she ran the pad of her thumb along the edge of the image. It was almost as though she was stroking the girl's cold cheek.

A woman spoke. "Where was she found?"

"Her body was dumped into an alleyway behind a rundown warehouse along Blue Lake Boulevard," Feng replied.

"That is Triple Threat territory," said the Councilwoman. "Yet again."

Feng nodded. "We have already begun an investigation into the ownership of the building and will be paying the owners a visit once we have located them."

"This girl, who was she?" Tenzin asked, sitting two spaces away from Korra at the very end of the curved table. "She can't have been more than eighteen, perhaps nineteen."

"We aren't sure," Feng said, giving a moment's pause. "We found no proof of identity on her person and no relation has come forward to claim that they knew her, if she even had relations in the city at all. It's likely that we might never know who she was. The manner of her lifestyle is quite evident."

At this, Korra finally lifted her eyes from the photographs. "What is that supposed to mean?" she said, her tone bordering on heated.

Feng was not sitting among the Council this time and was also not accompanied by the advocate he had brought with him the day before. He paced the length of the crescent-shaped table back and forth, his arms folded tightly before him except for when he extricated one to make a gesture. He paused at the shoulder of the Councilwoman serving as a representative for the Fire Nation, turning to Korra. His gaze was difficult for her to decipher, though she could see remnants of the anger he had displayed towards her at the Arena tucked away in the corners of his eyes. It was a long moment before he spoke, and when he did it was plain that he was making an effort not be as blunt with his words as he would otherwise be inclined.

"Preliminary forensics show a pattern of bruising that precedes what she was made to suffer at the hands of the killer, along with evidence that she was using narcotics. Those are signs we typically see with women who…get by through selling their bodies."

With the way in which she had lived the first seventeen years of her life, Korra had arrived on the shores of Republic City with the thick cloud of ignorance hanging before her eyes. There was much for her to learn when she returned from the South Pole. She had known very little outside of the Pro-Bending Arena, and naturally assumed that the city was a magnificent place full of bright lights and awe-inspiring beauty. But that was not the case. The promise of prosperity that the city appeared to behold was not shared equally amongst its inhabitants. She learned of the homeless, the desperate, the fatherless, the lost; she learned of the women who turned themselves into objects for a man's desire for the promise of a little coin.

"She was a prostitute," Korra said quietly.

"Yes," Feng spoke into the silence that had settled upon the room.

Korra turned her eyes down once more. The dark skin of the nameless girl was marred by lines of scorched flesh, carved into her by the cruel hand of her killer. An intricate whorl had been branded upon her left cheek, a trio of sweeping lines curving along the right side of her face from brow to jaw. Her lips were blackened, the once soft flesh singed and cracked. Korra kept her hands very still and in plain sight, to remind herself of where she was. Her jaw clenched, muscles pulsing as her eyes alternated between a hard and softened gaze.

This girl could have been her.

Korra had learned that she was not the first of her Tribe to steal away from her home in the dead of the night, desperate to partake of the seemingly plentiful fruit of Republic City's prosperity. Others had long since come before her and continued to come after her, drawn by the lustre of the face the city showed to the world, and tired of the life that the Poles had to offer them. In particular, young women from the Northern Water Tribe often found their way – illegally – to Republic City, seeking the opportunities that they could not find in their homes and the sense of equality that the city purported. But what they found was not something they had expected. The promise of opportunity and equality, of prosperity and peace, was not one Republic City was able to fulfil. Korra had been lucky, being born as the Avatar, but others of her heritage were not so fortunate.

"Who is doing this?" she heard herself ask.

"Yes," spoke the supporting voice of Tenzin. "Surely by this point you must have a better idea of who your suspects are. The killer has clearly displayed a pattern in the victims they have chosen."

But Feng shook his head. "The killer is smart. Either they do not touch the victims physically at all or are wearing gloves when they do. We haven't been able to pull any useful fingerprints from the bodies, especially considering the state they're in."

"Does the Police not have a database detailing benders with criminal records?" Tenzin said.

"We have already begun looking into that," Feng answered. "We are identifying firebenders with records of repeated crimes against Water Tribe women in and around the areas known to host Triple Threat activity."

"Then why haven't you taken them in yet?" Korra spoke, hardly moving her lips. "Did this idea not occur to you the first time, or the second time, or even the third time?"

She didn't look up from the photograph, so she did not see Feng's eyes narrow as he spoke.

"We cannot simply pick these people from off the street and bring them in for questioning, Avatar, despite the history they may have," he answered. "We need some form of evidence that would place them within proximity to the crime scene at the time, at least. The Police Force does not like to operate upon baseless guesswork and pave the way for these people to then waste our time with claims of injustice."

Korra looked up and met his gaze. "These murders began three weeks ago, and you are telling me that you haven't been able to uncover a shred of evidence since then."

"That isn't what I said. Our investigation is on-going and –"

"All I see is you dragging your feet," Korra cut across him sharply. "There is a murderer running loose while the Police dedicates its efforts to raiding Pro-Bending Arenas and breaking up Equalist protests. This killer is allowed to roam the streets picking and choosing their victims because you won't put resources where they're needed most."

"Do not presume that you understand the ways and means of the Police Force," Feng said darkly.

"I understand enough," Korra said. "I understand enough to see that you are _obsessed_ with the Equalists. Look at how swiftly the Police was able to respond to the Equalists' plans at the Arena last night. I witnessed so many on-the-spot arrests that I lost count, but you refuse to devote resources to claiming back areas of the city taken over by the triads, places where murderers can now walk freely because of your inaction."

"What would you suggest, Avatar? That I call each and every single one of my men and women and throw them against the triads?" Feng said. "Do you think that would solve the problem? You are foolish if you think so. You would have me incite war through the streets simply to entertain your fantasies of peace and justice?"

"That is enough, Chief Feng," said the Earth Nation's representative, the Councilman's authoritative voice filling the room.

"I will not be lectured by an ignorant girl, Avatar or no," Feng said harshly, glaring at the Councilman before turning his eyes back to Korra. "You don't know this city as I do, and as much as you may think that you are its prophesied saviour, you are _not._ Do not think a mere _title_ grants you the right to determine how things are done here."

"Chief Feng!"

The screech of a chair's legs filled the room as Korra stood roughly to her feet. It was a long moment before she moved again, and the eyes of the room's occupants were upon her as she gazed down at the table.

"I'm not needed, then," she said quietly.

She lifted her eyes, turning her gaze upon each of the Council members before settling on Chief Feng. His expression was stony, his eyes cold as he stood at the apex of the table's curve.

"Fine."

* * *

Jinora was sitting on the steps that led up to the small plaza that overlooked the bay, her notepad sitting comfortably in her lap while she unconsciously nibbled on the end of her pen. It was a habit she had developed for when her mind refused to show her anything more than a blank space where her ideas should be. She had managed to write one whole sentence since speaking to Korra the day before. She was becoming increasingly annoyed by her inability to write, the current page of the notepad full of false starts and crossed out words. At times, she seriously considered throwing the thing as far from her as she could and forgetting all about trying to write her own novel.

Naga was lying peaceably behind her, offering her quite the comfortable back rest as she leaned against her body. Jinora was quite fond of running her fingers through the polar bear dog's lustrous fur, something she quickly learned after Naga took permanent residence on the island the polar bear dog quite enjoyed. Naga had shown fairly early on that she was more inclined to spend her time with Jinora than her siblings in the absence of Korra. Her tolerance for the hyperactive pair of Ikki and Meelo was one that did not stretch very far. The pair in question were currently at their usual antics behind them on the plaza, play fighting and tossing gusts of wind and laughter at each other. Jinora was usually quite good at being able to tune them out, but it seemed that ability was somewhat lacking today.

Jinora bit hard on the pen and a sound of annoyance came from her throat as she rapped the side of her head with her knuckles, almost hoping that the act would knock some ideas loose from their hiding place. But she was quickly coming to the conclusion that her inner well had run dry. She wanted to ask Korra for her thoughts again.

At the thought of Korra, Jinora recalled the previous night, thinking of the look on her face when she had demanded her father and the hardness of her gaze. She had seen her parents angry and knew herself when she was gripped in the emotion, but she had never seen Korra like that. It made her anxious. For a wild moment Jinora thought that Korra was angry enough to leave the island and never come back. She reprimanded herself later on for such a childish thought, but she hadn't been able to lie to herself about the relief she felt when Korra decided to stay overnight.

Korra was the person she felt closest to in her life, someone who existed outside of the small, constraining bubble of existence that the island offered to her. Jinora had begun to put away childish things by the time she was on the verge of being ten years old, and it was not long until she felt that there was no one she could relate to. Korra had appeared at the perfect time and Jinora found it easy to consider her as a sister. She became her connection to the otherwise outside world, someone that Jinora could only describe as being 'real'. She knew her books were a fantasy, and the lives of her parents were now wholly consumed by responsibility, whether that be raising a family or governing a city. Korra, despite her own responsibilities managed – at least in Jinora's eyes – to _live_ her life. She knew how to be the Avatar and how to be Korra, and Jinora was drawn to her – needed her – because her own day-to-day existence was becoming painfully monotonous.

Naga stirred at her back then, moving against her as she lifted her great head. Jinora turned in surprise, distracted from her musing for she thought the polar bear dog had been fast asleep. It was only when Naga lifted herself to her feet and Jinora almost fell backwards that she realised what had awoken the animal. Someone very familiar to both of them was approaching, stalking up the steps towards them with her father at their heel. Jinora glanced down to the bay momentarily and realised that she had missed their boat pulling in. She turned back to her father and Korra as their argument floated up towards her.

"…understand your frustration, but you must stop criticizing the Police Force so openly!"

"I would stop if Chief Feng gave me reason to."

"Korra, the Police Force was established in the beginnings of the Republic City itself, built upon the legacy of Toph Beifong. It knows the expectations to which it is held and has done much to secure and maintain law and order in the city. You must show the people who dedicate their lives in public service daily the appropriate respect."

"Then where is my respect?" Korra said in a raised voice as she paused and whirled around. "Answer me that, Tenzin. Am I here just to be Republic City's poster-girl and make the rest of the world jealous? Does the Avatar have _any_ purpose here?"

"Of course you do," her father answered, but the words that would have followed were drowned out by her younger siblings' sudden realisation of Korra's presence.

"Hey Korra!" Ikki cried as she ran up to the steps, standing in front of Naga. "I've got this _awesome_ new airbending trick to show you. Wanna see?"

Meelo was quick on his sister's heels. Jinora felt the hem of her robes flutter in the drafts of wind stemming from the air scooter he was perched upon. "It's a boring trick," he told Ikki, sticking his tongue out at her before turning to Korra. "Let's race instead!"

"Not now," Korra said shortly as she stepped up onto the plaza. She hardly glanced at Jinora or Naga, though the latter moved forward to nuzzle against her master's cheek.

"No, Naga," Korra said, holding her palm up to the polar bear dog's snout and pushing her away. Naga gave a small whine in protest.

"Aw, come on Korra!" Meelo said, oblivious to her mood and circling her on the air scooter, obstructing her intended path. Jinora caught her sister's arm when she tried to move forward as their father stepped up onto the plaza.

"Meelo," Tenzin called sternly.

"I'll even give you a head start!" the young boy was saying as he zipped faster around her.

Jinora saw the explosion coming in Korra's eyes.

"I said not now!" she yelled at Meelo. "I don't care for your stupid games!"

Her voice cracked through the air like a clap of thunder and Meelo came to an immediate stop before her, his air scooter quietly dissipating. Jinora saw him shrink away as he stood beneath her gaze.

"Just leave me alone," she told him before turning to the rest of them. "All of you."

They watched as she turned and walked away, taking the path that led not towards the main congregation of buildings but the one which led up towards the high, uninhabited cliffs at the eastern side of the island. Naga lowered herself onto her haunches and gave a quiet whine. Meelo looked to his sisters, his face foreshadowing tears.

"Did I upset Korra?" he asked softly when his father moved over to him and placed his hand on top of his head.

"No, son. She has just been having a difficult time lately. We need to give her some space to herself for a little while."

"Okay," Meelo said after a moment, but Jinora could see that her brother was not truly comforted.

"Good. Now back to the house, all of you," their father instructed.

Jinora lingered for a moment, making a bigger fuss than necessary of collecting her pen and notepad and straightening her robes. Her father turned back to her.

"I'm just going to bring Naga back to the pen," she answered his gaze innocently.

* * *

With her knees drawn up to her chin, she sat near the edge of the cliff, looking down upon the vast expanse of open water that separated the island and the city. She did not overlook the familiarity of her position, remembering how she had once stood at the edge of a cliff in the South Pole four years prior, questioning her place and purpose. She had been despondent, desperate, and for a moment her thoughts had turned to dark places that she had never admitted to anyone since. But then her predecessor, Aang, appeared to guide her when she had lost sight of her way and no longer knew who she was. Her dilemma was acutely different this time around however. She did not waste a moment attempting to call to those who had come before her when they had been ignoring her efforts for so long.

She knew who she was. She knew what she was, and didn't need them to reiterate that to her. All she wanted to know was what she needed to do.

At the back of her mind there was a thought, not yet fully formed into an idea. It was something that had gradually obtained a louder voice within her, but she only allowed herself brief glimpses at this thought. It was something that she would have turned to immediately were she still the girl of four years ago. But she was not that girl anymore. She was a young woman who knew the responsibility she carried and the importance of how she portrayed herself. It was this knowledge that had held her back from stepping beyond the restrictions the Council and Police Force thought to impose upon her and taking matters into her own hands. Her frustration grew day by day but she learned to contain it. She was the Avatar now, not a child.

But her inner restraints were beginning to bend and threatening to buckle. She had once thought that Republic City was a place fair to all, that it extended the promise of prosperity and peace to all its inhabitants. But that was a lie. The city had lied to her, the Council had lied to her, and the Police had lied to her. For the longest time she thought the social unrest within Republic City existed only between benders and non-benders. She had not realised what else lay beneath the surface because of the fact that she was the Avatar. She was blessed with a position that seemed to transcend all manner of opinion and earn the respect of the people, grudging or otherwise. She did not know that her people, her fellow Water Tribesmen and women – particularly the latter – were treated as the lowest of society.

She heard the whispers; her people were backward, uneducated savages that had not moved on from the time before the Hundred Year War. What need was there for primitive waterbending in the face of the medical discoveries and advancements in technology that had been made in recent decades? A city was driven by fire and steel; what place was there for waterbenders? Her people hid themselves in the shadows of ships as stowaways and alighted upon the shores of the city as illegal immigrants seeking work they did not deserve. What skills and knowledge could they possibly bring with them that was of worth?

And so, upon the discovering the lie that was Republic City, what could her people turn to? Only the few bore the strength to push past the quiet prejudice of the majority, to make something of themselves despite the walls that were erected in their path, to dare to reach for success when they were beaten to the ground and told that they were nothing and would always be nothing. Others, the majority, turned to options that led them to roam the dark and dangerous streets of the city.

They were the Red Monsoons, seeking to exact vengeance upon a city that had rejected them. They were the destitute, struggling with each breath of each day to find the basic means to live. They were drug addicts, desperately seeking their next fix to escape for a blessed moment from the world that ground them into the dust. They were young women who scraped together a coin or two by lying beneath a man, returning to the single rooms that they called home and spending all that they had earned to feed their child. They were the abused and abandoned, trapped in a continuous cycle with no means to escape. And Korra could not help them. She didn't know how to. She had fretted and tormented herself with questions, but there was no answer. So guiltily, just like the rest of the city, she had pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind.

But they would not lie dormant and forgotten forever. The murders of the women had seen to that. They were all young, all nameless, motherless and fatherless, and without a single friend. They would not be missed, or remembered. They had all escaped from their homes with a single hope lighting the path before their feet. They had all run to Republic City just as she had, except there was nothing for them to find here except misery. All they had found was a lie that she, through her own inaction, had helped perpetuate.

She was the Avatar, bringer of peace and balance. She had to do _something_.

"Korra?"

She lifted her head and turned to look over her shoulder.

"Are…are you alright?" Jinora asked from her perch at Naga's back.

Korra looked at the young girl for a long moment, seeing the tentativeness in her eyes and posture. Naga too was a little hesitant to approach any closer. Korra wanted to be alone, but she could not find it in herself to turn Jinora away.

"I'm fine," she said instead.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Korra swallowed a sigh. She shrugged and patted the ground beside her, turning back to face the open water as Jinora slid off Naga's back and both approached her. Jinora sat to her left whilst Naga settled her body behind them, but not before nuzzling her snout against the crook of Korra's neck. Korra lifted a hand to scratch behind Naga's ear, which earned her the polar bear dog's tongue upon her cheek. Her lips curved into a smile despite herself.

"Stop that," she told Naga, pushing her head away. The polar bear dog made a low, rumbling sound of contentment as it lay its head between its paws beside Korra's thigh.

Jinora naturally leaned against the animal as silence enveloped the three of them, not sure of what had possessed her to come to find Korra and equally as unsure of what to say to her. She decided to simply stay quiet and enjoy the view and the comfort of Naga's body against her back. Before she knew it, her pen and notepad were back in her hands. She looked down at the untidy mess the page had become, lightly tapping the end of the pen against her cheek.

Korra looked over at her, seeing her eyebrows knitted together in thought. "How's the story?" she asked simply for the sake of conversation.

Jinora pursed her lips. "I think this is what writer's block must be. I don't know where to go from here," she admitted.

Korra smirked humourlessly. "Makes two of us," she said bitterly.

Jinora turned to her, nervously biting her lip for a moment before speaking. "Korra, I…I probably – well, I definitely can't help you myself, but maybe…"

"I'm not going to eat you, Jinora," Korra said, though her voice was toneless. "Naga might, though," she added after a moment.

Jinora assumed Korra was joking. It took a few seconds before a smile crept onto her lips.

"Maybe there's someone who can help you figure things out when you're lost," she finished eventually. "Someone you can turn to when you don't know what to do. Like when I don't know how to continue this story," she said quickly as she laughed nervously when Korra didn't speak.

"Who do you turn to?" Korra asked after a moment.

"Um…you," Jinora said, her voice trailing away. "I feel like…well, I feel like I can tell you anything."

Korra closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She was tired, the effects of having not slept properly the night before finally beginning to catch up with her.

"Maybe you're right," she said to Jinora when she opened her eyes again. She turned to the girl, smiling warmly. "And I appreciate that you think of me in that way." She glanced down at the notepad in Jinora's hands before turning back to look over the water, her smile waning.

"Your heroine…her country is her heart. She would see her people happy before herself."

"Oh," Jinora said, and Korra heard the disappointment in her voice. "I guess…I guess that makes sense, doesn't it?" She gave a small laugh. "I really wanted these two to be together, but I don't think there's any other choice, is there? You can't abandon your own people."

Korra's expression darkened.

"No," she said. "You can't."


	4. Chapter 4

Mako turned into the corridor as he reached the top of the flight of stairs, though the staircase rose on for a few more floors. A small briefcase was clutched in his right hand, his coat slung over it and almost dragging along the floor as he walked. He reached into an inner pocket with his free hand, momentarily digging until he came upon the cool, slim metal of his keys and pulling them out a moment later. He absentmindedly spun the keys through the air as he approached his door, the thin key ring bouncing along the end of his finger. The corridor was filled with a metallic jangle as he contemplated the thought of spending the night alone.

The previous night had become a blur to him. Once the police had revealed themselves and taken down the unsuspecting Equalists, everything seemed to pass by in a rush, leaving him little time to truly make sense of things. Korra's reaction to what had happened, he knew, was justified. But he had not been expecting the ferocity she exhibited. He felt uneasy for not telling her in the first place, and then in the wake of her reaction guilty, particularly considering the thoughts and feelings she had been sharing with him as of late. But Mako had received his orders. His superiors told them all that there were to be no exceptions, whether it be their husbands, wives, children or friends. Or their Avatar.

In hindsight, Mako thought that he should have been honest with Korra, that he should have trusted her with the information. But yet still, a small part of him held back. He knew Korra well, and it was not difficult for him to make an educated guess as to how she may have reacted. The information had been incredibly sensitive and Mako, working directly on the case, fully appreciated it. He just was not sure that Korra also would.

He saw her heading out of the Arena before he had been swept up into the hustle and bustle and laboured with new orders. He liked to think that she simply hadn't heard him above the noise of the people still gathered in the atrium. It was quite late when he finally returned home, the vestiges of an old day melting into the tentative dawn of a new one. He had steeled himself for another confrontation with his partner, assured by way of his gut instinct that Korra was waiting for him on the other side of the door, having stubbornly remained awake as she waited for the opportunity to lay into him. He found his apartment empty however. It had surprised him.

Korra favoured staying in the city more than staying on Air Temple Island, and even when they had their disagreements and engaged in arguments he wasn't certain the walls kept from his neighbours, it was rare that she wouldn't stay the night with him regardless. There was also the fact that even if she did choose to spend the night with Councilman Tenzin and his family, she would generally call to let him know. He had had a telephone installed in his apartment two years previous at her behest. He rarely made use of it outside of talking to her, but he admitted that it made things much more convenient between them. He received no such call the night before, however. He sat up for close to an hour after coming in, waiting. He didn't think she had forgotten. If anything, it was a very clear indicator as to how angry she was.

Waking up alone was a disconcerting feeling for Mako; he was so used to the thought of company. When his life had been the hard streets of the city, he had woken to find himself curled up besides his brother, an arm protectively curved around his small form. They may have both been boys, but the cruel, cutthroat ways of the streets purged him of pettiness and embarrassment, young as he was. When they moved into the attic space above the Pro-Bending Arena, they had grown older and of course occupied separate beds, but still Mako knew that he would awake to see Bolin there beside him, the only family he had left and the only thing keeping him sane. And then, of course, came along Korra, who branded herself so unforgettably upon his life.

When he first moved out and got himself his own apartment, he had for a moment gloried in the prospect of having a space that he could firmly call his own, even if it technically did not belong to him but rather the generous landlord he was fortunate to stumble across. When he woke, he stretched wide and yawned loud, seemingly content with his surroundings. He would flop down on the dark brown and clearly previously owned couch that occupied a sizeable chunk of space in the small living room. He would flip the radio on as he stepped into the kitchenette to make himself breakfast before heading out for work, humming to whatever tune was piping out of the small, battered box. But it didn't take long before he quietly began to lament, particularly as his relationship with Korra grew.

She often visited him in his apartment, but always left to stay overnight at the Air Temple. As things progressed between them, it grew difficult for him to watch her leave and lie amongst the tousled sheets alone, waiting for sleep to come to him. Even if she promised to visit again the next day, he still felt achingly empty when he opened his eyes the following morning to find himself cold and lonesome. And so he gave her keys to the apartment, at the very moment he dropped them into her waiting palm wondering what had taken him so long to make the decision. There was so much that was implied by the act itself that Mako was careful to veil with his words. He did not want to appear desperate. He told Korra that having access to his apartment would make things more convenient for her, that she was free to come and go as she pleased.

It filled him with a certain kind of warmth to wake up that first morning and find Korra curled against him. It was more than just the heat of her body or the ever burning flame settled deep in his core; it was contentment, happiness, a certain joy that he could wake to find her at his side. She was never and perhaps (he hoped) would never be an early riser, so with each morning he was granted the opportunity to simply watch her as she slept, to listen to the sigh of a soft breath and feel the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. It brought him much joy - and often amusement – to watch her wake up, to feel her stir as she escaped her dreams and groan as sunlight teased her eyelids. The amusement was brought about when she, gripped still in the vestiges of passion, would reach down beneath the sheets before her eyes had fully opened, smiling lazily at what she found.

To experience waking up to Korra only made it more difficult to wake alone, and for some time now there was a question on Mako's lips that he was somewhat hesitant about asking. He wanted to come home to find her waiting for him. He wanted to know that no matter how long and arduous her day, she would always come home to him. He told her that his apartment was there simply for her convenience, but what he really wanted to do was ask her to live with him.

Mako reached his door and set his briefcase and coat down at his feet for a moment, lifting the unburdened hand to his neck as he leaned down to find the keyhole. He loosened his tie as he pushed the key forward, already thinking of the quiet, empty apartment beyond the door. When he tried to turn the key however, he found that the door was already unlocked. Mako paused for a long moment before withdrawing the key and switching over to its smaller cousin, lifting it to the lock set higher up on the door. Turning the key and handle together, Mako pushed the door open and stepped inside, glancing to the side as he did. His motorcycle keys hung there, the machine eschewed for the day in favour of public transport, but next to them hung Korra's set.

"Korra?" he called out.

There was no reply from her as he slipped off his shoes and set them next to her boots, stepping further into the living room. He presumed that she was still angry with him, but for the time being did not mind. Setting his briefcase down, Mako slipped out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch before going in search of Korra, something which would not take particularly long given the size of the apartment.

He found her in the bedroom, sitting at the desk. She was hunched over, her face hidden from him as she laid her brow upon her arms. In front of her lay a newspaper, several creases lining its length. She did not move or respond to him when he called her name. Stepping into the room, Mako approached her, squeezing between the bed and a small chest of drawers. He found her coat lying strewn on the floor beside her. He picked it up and laid it out across the foot of the bed before turning back to her.

Her hair was unbound, pooling along her back and across her shoulders and hiding her eyes from him. Mako grimaced as he glanced to the afternoon newspaper, one he had already glimpsed on his way back home. The news that dominated its front page was something he had been aware of well before the story reached the ears of the media.

Mako leaned forward as he lifted and tucked Korra's hair behind her ear, seeing that her eyes were pressed shut. He laid his hand against her shoulder and called to her softly.

"Korra."

She stirred gradually, though she moved very little. Mako saw her eyes crack open and she blinked slowly, but she did not turn her head or gaze to him. Upon seeing the look in her eyes, he moved his hand to rub small circles along her back. It was safe to say that the anger she had displayed to him at the Arena – that anger he had expected her to greet him with now – was buried beneath her despondency.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

She sighed. "I'm tired. I didn't sleep properly last night."

"You should've slept on the bed," Mako told her. "My desk isn't the most comfortable place to take a nap. Trust me."

Korra gave him something of a smile. "I can't make myself move," she murmured.

So he carried her.

Mako slipped his arm beneath her thighs and wrapped the other around her back, lifting her into the air and, he saw, drawing the ghost of a smirk from Korra as he spent a moment or two to steady himself. Korra was not exactly light, though of course he would never dare say that to her face. Her body was well toned and firm with muscle. It was a body he took much pleasure in appreciating.

As he turned from the desk to the bed, Mako suddenly wished that the distance between them was longer. Korra burrowed herself into him, impressing the warmth of her body against him as she lifted a hand to lightly rest at his chest. She laid her head against his shoulder, her dark, chestnut locks draped over his arm. She suddenly became so soft and delicate in his arms, a peaceful look of contentment shaping her features as she let her eyes fall.

Mako had likely never walked so slowly in his life as he took his time to carry Korra over to the bed, easing carefully between it and the chest of drawers as he moved around to its far side. Lowering her to the quilt-covered mattress and allowing himself a moment of disappointment that he had to put her down, Mako turned himself and sat beside her. She curled up against him, lifting her gaze to his as he moved his hand to her brow and pushed her hair out of her eyes. He traced a path down to her cheek with the back of his fingers, smiling as the sensation of her soft skin against his suffused him with warmth. He saw her eyelids dip as he leaned down and touched his lips to her forehead, intending to rise afterwards and leave her to her much needed peace and quiet. But it seemed that Korra had other ideas.

Mako felt her arm sliding over his shoulder and curving around to the back of his head, her fingers pushing into his hair. No sooner did he lift his lips from her brow did Korra pull him down again, this time to her mouth. He planted his hand beside her head to steady himself as he leaned over her, lead into a deep, slow kiss that filled his mouth with her taste and left his tongue tingling. He felt her fingers push deep into his hair, gripping him lightly as her free hand moved to the neck of his shirt. Without fumbling, she pulled loose his top button. Mako moved his hand to her shoulder and after briefly allowing his thumb to ghost along the side of her neck, pulled himself away from her lips. Her hand slipped down to his chest as he lifted his body. He arched an eyebrow at her.

"I thought you were tired," he said with a crooked smile.

"I was," she replied, the ocean shimmering in her gaze. "But then you came home." She lifted herself up from the pillow at her head and kissed him lightly, drawing his lower lip between her teeth before seductively peeling away. "I need you, Mako," she breathed as she lowered her head to bed once more, her eyes warm with desire.

He could hear his heart thudding in his ears at the look that she gave him. It was honest and naked, full of her desperate need for him. It was Korra giving herself to him completely, telling him that she wanted him to take control, that she trusted him unquestionably to guide them both to a place that would erase their need for logical thoughts.

"Make me forget today," she told him as she returned her hands to the buttons of his shirt. He leaned over her, remaining still as she made to free him of its burden. "Make me forget how to think, how to breathe," Korra murmured as she slipped the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. "I don't want to know anything except for you, Mako. Please," she pleaded as his shirt pooled onto the floor, forgotten.

He moved and silenced her then, lowering his mouth to hers and pushing his tongue between her lips. Korra moaned softly into the kiss as his hand trailed down the length of her body, eventually reaching the hem of her vest and pulling it upwards with intent. Korra lifted her upper body as she understood. For a few moments they tussled together to pull it over her head, neither willing to part from the thorough intensity of their kiss. Mako forgot it the moment he tossed it aside, hungrily claiming Korra's lips once more as his hand moved to her chest. She groaned into his mouth as he grasped her breast, curving her spine and pushing herself into his touch.

His desire for her only grew more intense as she curved her arms around his shoulders and pulled his body down onto her. She murmured his name as he lowered his mouth to her throat, planting a hot trail of open-mouthed kisses along her flesh as he inhaled her scent, earthy and divine. He grunted as her nails pressed into him when he brought his teeth to the crook of her neck and lightly grazed her skin.

Mako shifted his position, moving onto the bed and settling his knees to either side of her body. His lips moved lower, kissing her shoulder, her clavicle, moving down to the swell of her chest and teasing a gasp from her throat as he bent low and pulled her nipple into his mouth. He suckled with the fervour of a hungry babe and Korra gripped his hair and held him there, breathing short and sharp as he carefully worried her flesh with his teeth.

Soon, he registered her hands moving to fight desperately with the buckle of his belt. Korra swore as the belt valiantly resisted her efforts, pulling Mako's hips forward along the way. He took hold of her waist as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled her up to stand along with him. They set to work on each other's restraints, Mako beginning to step out of his trousers as he moved to loosen Korra's own belt and pull it away. She lowered her hands and took over for him as his eagerness to feast on her led him to hiss in annoyance. He pushed his fingers into her hair at the back of her head and tilted her face upwards to seal their lips together. When they were both free, Korra elicited a groan from his throat as she reached down to stroke him. Her movements were swift, and she breathed heavily in his ear when he slipped his hand between her thighs.

"Take me," she begged him, pressing her body against him. "I want you," she husked.

Mako gripped her upper arm and turned her around to face the wall, pushing her legs apart with his knee as he took hold of himself. Korra gasped aloud as he drove into her with a single thrust. He growled her name through gritted teeth as she arched her spine and tightened around him. Pleasure thrummed through him more powerfully than the shock of lightning, surging through his body more completely than the liquid fire pooled at his core. Nestling his chin into the crook of her neck as he gripped her hips, Mako gloried in Korra's heavy pants and widened eyes. His mouth curved into a predator's grin as he moved and she hissed in utter delight. Her hand came up behind her to grip his forearm, the other barely managing to steady herself against the wall.

"Slow?" he whispered into her ear before demonstrating the proposed rhythm.

"_Mako…"_

The way she called his name seemed to speak to every fibre of his being, calling forth his soul as though it didn't belong to him in the first place. Perhaps it never had.

"Slow?" he said to her again. Korra shook her head after a moment, swallowing air before she spoke.

"Hard. Fast," she replied. "_Spirits," _she gasped when he started to move. "Make me yours," she told him.

Mako could only oblige her.

* * *

Afterwards, they both stared up at the dark ceiling, trying to catch their breath. They laughed at how absurdly difficult it turned out to be, which only perpetuated the cycle. Korra complained that she likely would not be able to walk straight the following day. Mako smiled. He told her that was probably the best complaint he had ever heard. He didn't mind telling her that he felt just as sore. It was a long time since he had ached so good, in fact. They eventually went to sleep, their forms seemingly melded together in the darkness. Mako held Korra against him and dreamed of her.

When the morning light began to trickle through the window and Mako stirred, Korra woke with him. She asked him quietly to call in sick. He thought she was joking and laughed, but her gaze never left his and she did not echo his laughter. She was serious, he realised, and the look in her eyes was one he slowly grew to understand. She needed him. The newspaper from the day before was still lying on his desk, but she had not said a word about it yet, so neither did he. He made the call, altering his voice to make himself sound groggy and ill.

They didn't leave the bedroom for the majority of that day. Passion overtook them, and they delighted in each other with renewed fervour. It was a long time since Mako had seen Korra so happy and content. Later in the day, he realised that it was the longest time they had spent with each other in weeks. She said nothing to him of the newspaper when they lay in each other's arms that night, and he did not press her. A comfortable silence enveloped them and Mako smiled as he watched her fall asleep.

Mako called in sick the next day. He told Korra it would seem odd for him to have miraculously recovered in less than twenty-four hours. When he saw the smile on her face, he knew it was worth it.

They reacquainted themselves with the apartment and each other, marking each of the rooms with signs of their passion and perhaps treating curious neighbours to a long, loud chorus of intimacy. They enclosed themselves in a bubble, oblivious to the city flowing around them. The newspaper, now two days old, lay on his desk. Korra made no mention of it. Not until later that night.

She lay against him and he moulded himself around the curve of her back, propping himself up on his elbow as he reached around her to play his fingers upon her stomach. He drew aimless lines as he listened to her breathe, enjoying the miniscule movements she made as she sighed in comfort. Shadows played across her skin as beyond the window night began to embrace the city. Mako lifted his head to touch his lips to her shoulder. He felt at ease, his body feeling loose and light. A part of him that had remained starved for weeks was now content. The past two days spent solely in Korra's presence sated a hunger within him that he knew not the depths of until they had locked themselves away from the world.

The sheets rustled as Korra moved then, and Mako leaned away to give her the room to turn around. Her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her, having escaped the high, tight tail she fashioned it into daily. Several locks lay across her brow and cheek as she faced him, partially shielding the brightness of her gaze. Mako wanted to see her eyes, so he lifted his hand and pushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She smiled softly.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "For being angry with you," she said to his raised eyebrow. "I shouldn't have been. It wasn't your fault."

Mako said nothing, simply lowering his lips to her brow as he stroked his thumb along her cheek.

"You were just doing your job," she said. "I shouldn't have…you're doing a good thing, Mako," she told him. "You're making a difference."

"So are you," he told her. Korra didn't reply, instead closing her eyes. She moved, tucking her head beneath his chin and pressing the cool of her brow to his chest.

"Am I?" she asked. "I don't feel as though I am."

"Korra, you have to remember that you can't help _everyone._ That's why I'm here, to reach the people you can't."

"I don't feel like I can reach anyone, Mako," she said softly.

He lowered his hand to her chin and tilted her face upwards. She opened her eyes to meet his.

"You are a symbol of hope for the city," he told her, "someone that we can turn to when we've lost our own way. When we can't rely on our own strength, we know that we can depend on yours."

"Am I only a symbol?" she asked him, her eyes shimmering. "What good is my strength if I can't use it? How can I show you the way when I barely know it for myself?"

"Korra," he said slowly. "I can't pretend to know what it's like to be the Avatar, but I can tell you what it's like to be a police officer. When I walked the beat, I was told expressly not to display a show of force unless absolutely necessary. Everyone knows how police officers operate. We don't patrol the streets as though they are under our rule, and everyone knows that, well intentioned citizen or otherwise. There is so much bureaucracy in place to protect the people against officers who try to abuse their position. Our hands are tied more than you would believe. But you know what I saw when I walked the beat?"

Korra shook her head, her eyes on his. He saw the confusion and desperation clouding her gaze, and it tugged at his heart that the confident, determined woman he had always known should seem so lost.

"There was a sense of peace and security in the eyes of the people I passed by," he told her. "And those who would have planned to disrupt that peace, they found somewhere else to be. I knew their faces and could guess well enough at their intentions, but even if I couldn't pull them in on the spot because of it they knew enough to stay away."

"Until you were gone," Korra said. "What stops them from carrying out their intentions when you're no longer there?"

"You could ask that to the officer who took the shift before me," Mako said, "or the one who took it after me. We may not have patrolled the streets for all the hours in a day, but our presence was still there, in a sense. We walked the beat often enough for what we represented, law and order and justice, to linger when we couldn't physically be there. We didn't exercise our power often, but the potential for it served as enough of a deterrent for those would-be criminals and offered that sense of security and assurance to the rest of the public. We were symbols in a way, too," he told her.

Korra looked at him for a long moment, her gaze swimming uncertainly before she dropped her eyes.

"That's not what I am," she said softly. "I can't be just a symbol, Mako. I have to be more. I have to be…"

"What?" he prompted as she fell silent. "What do you have to be?"

She turned away from him, looking up to the ceiling. "The Avatar," she said.

"But what does that mean?" he asked, and that was when she turned her back to him, curling up into herself.

"I don't know," she whispered.

She did not speak again after that. Mako fell silent after several attempts to coax a response from her. He moved and looked down at her, knowing that she was only feigning sleep as she pressed her eyes shut. He bit into his lower lip as he tried to think of what to say to her, but further words failed him. Instead, he reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear once more, bringing his lips to her cheek.

"I'm here for you," he said as he lifted his head, wrapping his arm around her body as he lay behind her. After a moment, she moved her hand and pushed her fingers between his.

* * *

Korra dreamt that she stood atop a tall tower, able to reach her hands up and brush through the soft white clouds in the sky. The city lay below her, and as she looked she could see every facet within it with perfect clarity. As she looked and listened, she heard a pleasant chatter; the joyous cheer of the people in the wake of Amon's defeat and the crumbling of the Equalist movement. She could feel the sense of despair and hopelessness that pervaded the streets begin to dissipate into nothingness as benders who had been parted from the essence of themselves were restored by her power. She heard her name called by a multitude, wrapped within the sweet harmony of praise and admiration. She looked and saw countless faces turned up towards her, shining with happiness and hope.

But then she felt a rumbling beneath her feet, her knees almost failing her as the building upon which she stood began to grow, pushing upwards towards the sky. When she regained her senses and looked, she found that she had drawn no closer to the clouds. But when she looked down, she saw that the city had diminished. She could barely make out the shape of its streets and the features of the people who walked them. Few turned their eyes upwards to find her, and her name dwelt on the lips of the minority. As she listened, straining her ears, she thought she heard a cry for help. When she turned around to find its source, however, the city hid the voice from her gaze. This happened again, and again. Korra turned about frantically, but no matter where or how hard she looked she could not see who was calling out to her.

The sky above her began to turn grey as she spun to and fro, wisps of white cloud steadily thickening and congregating around her. Voices began to filter into her ears from either side, their words blending harshly together until she was all but deafened to the pleas for her help. She could not discern one voice from the other; neither could she grasp what it was they were trying to tell her. As they continued to speak she felt an uncomfortable weight beginning to press down on her shoulders. She felt lethargic, and it took all her strength to merely stand and try to listen to them. She knew that it was important, but not why.

The tower grew yet again, in fact, it had never ceased in its ascent. Korra had simply been too distracted to realise it was still moving. When she looked down, the details of the city were too far for her eyes to discern. The voices of the people had become a whisper, and her name was only fleetingly upon their lips. The voices in her ear were yet still loud and persistent, and above her the sky roiled, clouds dark and foreboding stretching across it. She wanted to hear the city, to see the city, to feel the city. Up here, she could sense nothing. When she tried to reach down, the voices bombarded her with screams. She snatched her hands to herself and covered her ears, screwing her eyes tightly shut and falling to her knees. The tower grew, propelling her into the sky.

* * *

Korra dreamed of a woman, young and beautiful with eyes that shone with intelligence. She lived in the lands of ice and water, born to a doting mother and a stern, but loving father.

She watched as the young woman grew from a mere babe swaddled in her mother's arms, watched as she began to spill her first words from her lips and take her first, tentative steps. She watched as the young woman left behind childhood and was taught to be obedient to her father. She was taught how to cook and how to clean, how to prepare his meals and tend to the keeping of the house. She watched as a day came where the young woman learned that she could call to the water and it would listen. Her mother smiled, her father smiled; her brother laughed, but unlike him, the young woman was not sent to learn how to strengthen her call.

Korra watched her ask her mother why. Her mother told her that instead she was to learn how to serve the needs of her future husband. She turned to her father, and he told her that it was not important for her to learn how to use the call. When she asked her brother, he told it was because as a woman, she was not born with the true call, only an imitation of that which he possessed. He told her not to fret, for life had blessed her in other ways. How, she asked, and he told her that she would help sustain and expand their tribe. He and their father had already chosen for her a good man, one who would take care of all her needs and one for whom she would bear many children.

He told her this with a smile. Korra watched as she fought not to scream.

The young woman spent the days and nights that followed flitting between sorrow, hopelessness and rebellious anger. Deep in her veins she felt the strength of her call and the yearning for knowledge. Her hands wished to know more than what it took to keep her father and brother content and her mother absurdly proud. She spent many days in the markets, for there dwelled men of foreign lands, men who travelled across the great seas of the world to sell and trade.

From their lips she heard of a city, a city that stood at the very centre of the world. Within its walls, all men and women were equal. All were granted the chance to better themselves, to make a life of which they could be proud and enjoy. It was not long before the young woman could think of nothing else. Korra watched as she built up her courage day after day until the day in which she had truly gathered her resolve.

And then she ran.

The innards of the ship within which she hid herself were cold and grey, and it was not long before the few morsels of food she brought along with her were gone and she was left to clutch herself and ignore the grumble of her belly. But she would endure it, for the promise that the city offered to her was too great to ignore. She could stand to wait for a few, hungry days, because everything would be well soon.

She reached the city and quietly crept onto its shores. She grew fearful when she saw it looming over her, buildings taller than anything she had ever seen reaching up towards the heavens, objects she had never seen before defying the laws of nature and floating amongst the clouds. But she swallowed her fear and gathered her courage, and Korra watched as she took her first step towards her freedom.

That freedom was a lie.

Korra watched as the young woman turned to and fro, reaching out for help and finding herself kicked to the ground time after time. On the first day that she dwelt in the city, her meagre possessions were parted from her. On that first night, she pressed herself into the shadows of an alleyway, clutching her furs tightly around herself as she shivered with fear. Slowly, the fanciful tales that she had gleaned from the tongues of tradesmen and whispered to herself in the dead of the night turned sour in her mouth. She spat them out, and along with them departed her hopes and dreams. It was not long before she became desperate.

Korra watched the first man take her. The young woman was able to charge him more because she was still a virgin. An iron fist clenched her gut and twisted her stomach as she saw what the young woman was subjected to, but she could not turn her eyes away. Unseen hands grasped the sides of her head and forced her to watch. The young woman cried herself to sleep that night, whimpering at every movement of her thighs. She promised herself that she would never put herself through such an experience again, but alas the choice was no longer hers. A man appeared at the door of her small, shabby room, wreathed in shadow, but Korra saw his leer, his white, predatory grin. When the young woman refused to do as he told her, the crack of his hand across her cheek over and over again convinced her otherwise.

Korra watched the young woman grow numb. The money that she was allowed to keep for herself went to feed her growing addiction instead of her body. She grew thin, sickly, and the man who owned her life beat her for it when she failed to bring in coin. The bruises on her face afterwards did little to help her cause. The man withheld the drug from her and forced her to eat, tossing her into the care of other women who were little better off than she was. She screamed in the night when the reality of the world crashed down upon her. She howled and clawed at the walls, begging to feel nothing, begging to forget all that she was. Korra watched as she begged to die. But the young woman did not breathe such a plea again, for one night there was a piercing cry that was followed by another, and for one small moment as the young woman became a mother, she knew happiness.

The man put her back to work as though her child did not exist. She had no choice; she had two mouths to feed now. Soon, the claws of her addiction began to sink into her skin once more, and the nights that they both went hungry were frequent. The child cried and so did she. She could not take it for long one night and fled from the room to walk the streets. Perhaps she could earn some coin for herself.

Korra watched as the shadow stalked her and though she opened her mouth, her shout of warning fell upon deaf ears. The shadow fell upon the young woman, wrapping itself around her screaming form and swallowing her whole. Her face and outstretched arm appeared momentarily above the darkness wreathed about her, as though she were attempting to fight the unrelenting pull of the sea. Her eyes found Korra's, latching on like the child that had clutched tightly at its mother's breast. She opened her mouth and screamed for help, one last time. She reached for Korra with one last glimmer of desperate hope in her eyes. Korra reached – but the woman's fingers slipped through hers like smoke.

And then the shadow devoured her.

* * *

Mako stirred as he felt a chill breath upon his skin. His hand moved blindly to pull the sheets over himself, and belatedly he realised that there was a distinct lack of warmth and weight lying beside him. His hand did not find the sheets or her. His eyes slowly opened as he patted the space where he was sure Korra had been. His gaze verified what he felt – or rather the absence of it.

Korra no longer lay beside him, and the sheets that he had pulled over them both were cast aside, gathered at his waist. His brow furrowed and he moved a hand to rub sleep from his eyes, blinking to clear the webs that clung to the corners of his vision and allowing himself a few moments to adjust to darkness of the room. A distinct sound reached his ears just before he shifted his gaze: the sound of rushing water.

When he looked up, he found her. She was leaning against his desk again, naked but for her underwear with her right hand poised in the air.

Several nights ago, he had watched her bend the water from the jug sitting on the desk slowly and contemplatively, forming soft, curving patterns and spiralling, unbroken lines. Now, however, the water scythed through the air, slicing through itself and sending a shower of droplets spilling to the floor before they were pulled back upwards by her will. The shapes she drew were sharp and rigid, the water whistling as she drove it mercilessly through tight coils that crashed into each other time and again. The broken lines were dragged back towards her outstretched palm, which unlike before did not move smoothly through the air, instead jerking to and fro as she pulled the water this way and that.

Mako had seen this before. Korra was angry.

Pulling himself up into a sitting position, Mako called to her softly. "Korra, what's wrong?"

She said nothing. Without taking her eyes from the water, he saw her reach behind herself, for a moment groping blindly before her fingers closed around a small box. She lifted the box and flipped open the tab at the top, setting it back down on the table before pulling something from its innards. In the orange lamp-light spilling into the room from the street outside, Mako was able to see what exactly it was as Korra lifted her left hand. At the same time, he understood why the window had been pushed open.

She finally turned her eyes to him, holding out her hand. "Light?"

Mako frowned deeply. He had never liked the fact that Korra smoked, even if she only did it on the rarest of occasions and somehow managed to resist the cravings that plagued the majority of smokers. She only tended to turn to a cigarette when she grew either greatly frustrated or angry beyond her means, claiming that it helped calm her. Mako could not see how, but then he was not willing to try it and find out, as Korra had once suggested to him. She knew of his dislike for her smoking, but whenever she wanted to do it around him she would never light the cigarette herself. She always asked him to instead. Not only was she asking his permission, he gradually understood, but also for his help.

"Please," she said when he did not move. "I need it."

Mako eventually sighed, giving in. He brought a small bulb of fire to his fingertips and reached forward. Korra pushed the end of the cigarette briefly into the flame before lifting it to her lips. He watched silently as she pulled on it, a ring of heat steadily chewing its way up the length of the cigarette as she drew the smoke into her mouth. Her eyes closed for a moment before she leaned forward and blew in the direction of the window, tapping ashes out onto the street below. Smoke curled up from the butt of the cigarette as she gave a moment's pause. She put it to her mouth twice more before flicking the cigarette out the window. The water continued to whistle through the air, unfazed.

"Korra," he began, but she spoke over him.

"Did you see this?" she asked him, picking up the newspaper and holding it out to him. "You probably did. I bet the whole city has by now."

On the front page was a picture of the section of Blue Lake Boulevard that had been cordoned off by the police, the warehouse itself where the young Water Tribe woman's body was discovered early that morning surrounded by a number of officers and police vans.

"Did you read the article?" she asked him. He looked up at her. He could see the walls holding back her emotion crumbling. "Did you?" she demanded.

"In passing," he said quietly.

"In passing," she echoed. Korra lowered the newspaper to the table and ripped it open, picking it up a moment later to show to him once more. Across the double page spread were images of her both entering and emerging from the Pro-Bending Arena on the night of the Equalists' attempted attack. Heading the article in large, bold print were the words: _Avatar At Leisure Whilst Murderer Freely Roams Our Streets._ Mako grimaced.

"Did you see this too?" Korra asked him, the paper quivering in her grip. "Here, let me read some of it to you."

"_On the same night that the murderer was stalking his latest victim, Avatar Korra was seen visiting Republic City's prominent Pro-Bending Arena. It has been reported that she played no part in the successful Police operation headed by Chief Feng. By her own admission, made as she left the Arena, she had no knowledge of it. It is believed then that the Avatar was merely there for the sake of her own entertainment, at a time when a string of murders of young women has set the city on edge. Avatar Korra has been asked for a statement, but she has yet to make one at this time."_

"But wait," Korra said as she looked up from the newspaper, her eyes narrowing, "it gets even better."

_"Residents within the district have expressed their fears for their safety, and Chief Wei Feng made a statement late this morning to offer assurance to the public: 'We are devoting all our available resources into locating and apprehending the murderer who is roaming our streets. I urge all of you to remain vigilant and to report anything suspicious to the Police as soon as possible.'"_

_When questioned on the subject of Avatar Korra and her lack of action in the light of these killings, Chief Feng stated: 'Unfortunately, I am not privy to what the Avatar considers to be her priorities. She has not made an active effort to include herself in the investigation at this time. Rest assured, however, that the Police Force will not be resting until we have caught and brought this murderer to justice.'"_

"Oh, there's more," Korra said, water slicing through the air in front of her before being pulled into a wide sphere by her will. Her right hand began to curl tightly into a fist as she spoke, her fingers digging into the flesh of her palm as the watery orb contracted and its surface began to vibrate. "There's so much _more."_

Mako flung the sheets aside and stepped out of the bed, reaching forwards and pulling the newspaper from her hand. "Korra, stop," he told her as he dropped it onto the desk and took her face between his hands. "Listen to me," he began, but she pulled away.

"I'm done listening," she said, glaring at him as she squeezed the orb of water ever tighter and her own fist shook along with it. "All I do is sit and listen_._ To you, to Tenzin, to the Council, to the damn Spirits, and not one of you has anything to say worth _listening_ _to._"

"Korra –"

"I am sick of you," she spoke over him. "All of you! All you would have me to be is some pathetic excuse of a symbol that you can dump all your blames onto when something goes wrong. All you do is build walls around me and try to convince me that it's all for my own good, because not one of you trusts me to _behave._"

"I don't blame you for anything," Mako said quickly. "And you know that I trust you, Korra. I trust you with my life!"

"No, you don't," she said, shaking her head as a shadow passed over her face. "If you did, you would have told me what was happening at the Arena. But instead, you treated me like the child I once was. All of you did."

She stood to her feet, no longer leaning against the desk as her trembling fist finally began to loosen. There was little room to spare between them and she stood practically in his face, her eyes dark with anger.

"I have had enough," she said quietly.

The jug rattled on the rim of its base as she slung the orb of water back into it, threatening to topple over as thick droplets splashed up from its depths and rained down upon the desk. When she turned her gaze away and pushed past him, the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing him to fall back and sit on it. Her words cut him, plunging deep into his being and pulling forth the spectre of guilt that clung to back of his mind. He found that his eyes slid away from her as she moved around the bedroom gathering up her clothes. He pressed his fingers to their corners as a thick silence enveloped them. He heard her getting dressed, but still could not turn his gaze to her. A lump formed in his throat, choking him to silence.

He finally looked when he heard her pull open his wardrobe, watching her push through his clothes until she found what she wanted. A small sense of relief came to him as she turned around to face him, pulling on a thick, dark-grey overcoat. If she was willing to wear his coat then he knew she intended to come back to the apartment.

"I'm going out," she announced, buttoning up the coat to her neck before lifting her hair out from beneath the collar and letting it fall to her shoulders.

"Where?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," she replied tonelessly.

"It's late," he said. "Let me come with you."

"Go back to bed," she returned harshly, her eyes hard upon him until he could meet them no longer and looked away. Naked but for a pair of boxers, Mako felt the chill of a breath of wind through the open window.

"It's cold," he said quietly as he heard Korra leaving the room. "Take my scarf. Please."

She paused for a moment, and Mako turned around in time to see her pull the long, red fabric from a stand next to the wardrobe before stepping out of the room. Mako waited until he heard the jangling of her keys and the door being pulled open before getting to his feet and quickly getting dressed.


	5. Chapter 5

_Like a lover, he carried her in his arms, but the sentiment was far from the truth. He had no feelings for this woman. Into the darkness of the secluded space did he bring her, setting her down on the floor. He moved towards the shadows that clung to the wall beneath a small pair of grimy windows and pulled on a series of chains. The metallic jangle of the cold steel links filled the room as he returned to the woman's side, setting himself to work. In time, she was strung up, her arms seemingly reaching towards the ceiling as her feet just barely brushed along the floor. Her head rolled forwards as she remained, for the time being, gripped in unconsciousness, her chin pulled down towards her chest and her hair, limp and lank, falling to conceal her face. _

_He stood to his feet and appraised his work, lifting a naked hand to the bonds clasped about her wrists and briefly testing them. They held true and tight; he smiled. It was only a small movement of his lips, allowing only the briefest glimpse of his teeth, but the subtle curve of his mouth preluded a predatory grin that would soon cause ice to creep up along the spine of his misfortunate companion for the evening. She hung before him like a puppet, soulless and lifeless until the moment he chose to manifest his will upon her. _

_He observed the woman as a hand pushed into the inner pocket of his jacket. She was filthy to his eyes, a whore who upon her skin wore the familiar markings of her profession. She had pulled her hands along his clothes, brushed her wet lips across his cheek, whispering huskily into his ear that she would suffice every one of his needs. If only she had known the rightness of those words. If only she were able to read the gleam in his eyes. She had belonged to many men, but for this night, she belonged only to him. She had offered him her body and he gladly accepted it. He would take her more completely than any other man. She would not forget him, no; he would burn his name into the very essence of her mind._

_From his pocket he produced a small jar of smelling salts, slowly unscrewing the lid as he moved closer to her. With his left hand he pushed the opened jar through the curtain of the woman's dark hair. He moved it slowly from side to side underneath her nostrils. He brought his right hand before him, palm turned upwards and fingers raised and curved, waiting. Soon, the woman began to stir. The man's golden gaze was rimmed with fire. _

_She suddenly coughed and spluttered, jerking backwards as he snatched the jar away from her. She woke to the chorus of clanking chains and her eyes naturally turned to the source of light that was placed before them. The man's lips peeled apart as her gaze widened and he listened to her hiss in pain and yelp in panic._

_Fire: it was his birthright, his gift, his painter's brush. _

_He always liked to show them the softly crackling flames upon their moment of waking, to have them feel its warmth upon their cheek as they were pulled from their slumber. Their eyes would know nothing beyond it, could look nowhere else but at the flames that dwelt so close. He would exist right in front of them and they would not see him. They would struggle and fight and twist away from the flames in simple, instinctual fear, and he would watch them, entertained. _

_The fire swayed as the woman's breaths came short and heavy, her chest heaving as she panicked. Demonstrating a certain degree of dexterity, the man set the jar of smelling salts in the cup of his palm and with the fingers of the same hand refastened the lid. His eyes looked nowhere else but beyond the flame._

_When he was finished, the jar was returned to his pocket. He carefully moved his hand aside, and even though the movement drew the flame away from the woman her eyes could not help but remain fixed upon it. In time, as they all did, she eventually noticed him. _

_"You…" she breathed before slowly looking from side to side at her arms. She pulled at the chains and twisted her body in the air; all an act of futility. "What are you doing?" she said in a voice driven to an unnaturally high pitch. "Where am I?" she demanded._

_He struck her, a single, sharp sting of the back of his hand across her cheek. Her hair hid her face as she was turned aside, and her form swayed in the air. He leaned forward and moved his hand to her jaw, turning her to face him and holding her still. Defiance clung to the corners of her gaze, but her eyes flitted to the flame that he still held in his grasp. He watched anxiety begin to bloom within them._

_"You told me that you would satisfy all my needs," he reminded her quietly._

_"What needs?" she hissed as he allowed his hand to drift close to her young face, throwing flickering shadows across her dark skin. The man smiled at her question. He released her, standing upright and slowly spreading his arms as she watched him._

_"I am a miracle," he told her. "A man with a vision so bright I dream of it while awake."_

_He relished the look in her eyes as he gave pause, the utter confusion rippling in the bright blue of her gaze and making way for fear._

_"I am blessed and cursed," he said, "to be granted so great a gift. I am an artist the world cannot truly appreciate."_

_The woman shook her head, clenching her jaw as she swallowed. "Let me go," she said. "Please."_

_"But an artist needs something upon which to work," he told her, tilting his head as he smiled. "A canvas, if you will."_

_"Please," the woman said again even as she strained against the chains. "I didn't do anything to you. Let me go!"_

_He struck her again, harder this time. Her shout was punctuated with a cry of pain as her face was turned sharply aside. He reached forward and curled the offending hand around her throat, bringing his lips to her ear._

_"How dare you demand anything of me," he murmured. "I recommend that you apologise. You wouldn't want to make me angry now, would you?"_

_She shook her head as his fingers began to tighten at her silence. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please!" she pleaded, "please let me go. I'll do anything!"_

_"Don't worry," he told her, "you won't have to do a thing."_

_He straightened his back and turned her face to the left and right, appraising her features. The fingers of his right hand moved, coaxing the bulb of fire in his palm to the tips of his digits. The smaller resultant dots of fire began to glow more brightly, flickering restlessly as the flames were sharpened until they were akin to the point of a knife. The woman's eyes began to bulge from their sockets, her chest rising and falling as panic overtook her and she writhed in his grip. She tried to kick out at him in the midst of her struggles, but then found that there was a length of rope looped about her ankles, knotted tightly and its grip unrelenting. The man transferred his hand from her throat to her jaw in the space of a heartbeat, holding her face still. He favoured her with a look of indifference as she screamed at him._

_"Really now," he spoke as though she were not fighting his strength with all her might and filling the room with the music of her struggles. "You should be honoured," he said, and then slowly he produced the predator's smile._

* * *

He stood at the window, hands tucked into the pockets of dark, finely pressed trousers as his mouth curved lightly. With his eyes closed, he faced the city beyond the glass portal, transporting himself to the day old, carefully preserved memory. He could taste the scent of her scorched flesh wafting gently beneath his nostrils; it suffused him as he listened to the garbled chorus of her screams. He withdrew a hand from his pocket and lightly rubbed the tips of his fingers together, remembering first the smoothness of her flesh beneath his touch and then the elegant, precise motions with which he had marked it.

There had never been a particular pattern that his hands would turn to. He would allow his mind to wander freely, with abstract purpose upon his chosen canvas crafting an image to which, though he could not ascribe words of explanation, he understood completely. He would step away when his work was done and his spirit sated, there to look upon and admire what his hands had created. The city dwelt in confusion, asking why he would do such a thing, why he had tortured these women so cruelly. If they were but to open their eyes and _see_, he would think as he perused the morning and afternoon newspapers. His work made beautiful those lowly, filthy women.

His hand remembered the cold grip of a knife, his eyes the glint of silver in the darkness as he carefully positioned its blade. The woman had screamed and shrieked her agony while he worked upon her flesh, but she made only the smallest sound as the knife crept between her ribs and lay peaceably with her heart. He would wipe the blade clean with a handkerchief that he then scorched out of existence, sparing one last moment to look upon the fruits of his labour before slipping into the darkness of the night.

The man opened his eyes as he lowered his hands, carefully returning the memory to the stores of his mind and stepping back into the present. He stood above the streets of the city, the high rising office block of his father's – and in time his own – illustrious company, Red Sun Technologies, casting its long shadow upon a myriad of buildings below. In a blue-grey sky laced with wispy clouds, he watched as airships bearing the distinct, yet simple logo of the company upon their flanks pulled themselves languidly through the air. He had to make it a point of looking to see any that wore the emblems and titles of their competitors. Future Industries had once dominated these skies, but no more.

The man turned as the ringing of a telephone pierced the relative silence of the large room. The sleek black device sat at the edge of an elegant mahogany desk, the wood dark and buffed to glimmer in the sunlight pouring through the window. The man did not approach the telephone immediately. There were few people among his father's employees, let alone the entirety of Republic City, who possessed a private line, the vast majority of calls having to be directed through an operator. The man was of course one of the privileged, but the list of people to whom he allowed knowledge of the means to contact him in this fashion was small.

Very small.

He stepped away from the window, moving with measured strides and an easy gait towards the desk. The high-backed leather chair gave the smallest of sighs as he settled his weight upon it. He leaned against the plush, comfortable rest after reaching forward and drawing the base of the ringing telephone towards him. After a moment's pause of what seemed to be deliberation, he answered the call, lifting the listening device to his ear.

"Who is this?" he demanded in a curt tone that affected impatience.

The reply was given by a gruff, familiar voice. "We need to talk."

The man's lips curled. "Oh? I am listening, Zolt."

"Your little games are bringing more than enough attention onto my streets. Police attention, and too much of it. I warned you about this. I told you not to go and get your rocks off every other day and now the cops are looking to come knocking at my door."

The man laughed. "There's nothing to worry about. The Chief of Police has to keep up pretences, after all."

"Mind clarifying that one for me?" Zolt said in a tone bled dry of all emotion besides anger.

"The Police can't touch me," the man said. "You should know that, Zolt. Were I any other man, Chief Feng would have sent his busy little bees swarming through your streets after the first one."

"That is exactly what they did. And yet a week had not passed before you drew them out to plague me again!"

"Age is not treating you well, I see," the man said with a hint of acid. "You are blind if you don't see what is really at work."

"Careful," Zolt snarled into his ear, "only a foolish man curses his elders. Your head may be in the clouds, but remember who is keeping you beyond Feng's reach."

The man merely smirked at Zolt's veiled threat. "You would forfeit our rather…handsome deal to teach me a lesson, perhaps? And you would call me the fool."

"You are paying for my silence, not my loyalty."

"Interesting," the man mused as he adjusted his posture and sat up. "Listen carefully, Zolt," he said quietly. "Do you think I am unaware of how thin your reins upon the Triple Threats have become? Do you think I don't know of the groups within your number who are plotting to drag you from your throne and leave you to rot in _your_ streets? It's by way of sheer luck that you are not already dead, and every day that you live without your bending is frankly a miracle. In your…delicate position, only a foolish man would curse the benefactor that is keeping the mere thread of loyalty within your organisation from snapping."

The man's eyes grew alight with a dangerous gleam as he spoke. "Do you understand me, Zolt?" He gave a small, chilling laugh. "Who did you think you were dealing with? My father as good as owns this city now, and I will soon inherit it from him. The Police? They belong to us. You have nothing to intimidate me with, my friend. I, on the other hand, could see you dead within before the end of the day. All it would take is the trickling of a few yuans into the right hands."

"You should know that I don't take well to threats," Zolt growled.

"Entertain your Police guests," the man suggested lightly. "I assure you they will not linger on your doorstep for too long."

He removed the listening device from his ear, indifferent as he caught a word or two of Zolt's reply before ending the call and hanging the device in its cradle. Folding his arms into his lap, the man leaned back against the leather seat as he closed his eyes. With a small smile, he drew the memory from its storage place once more.

* * *

"This cannot be allowed to go on for any longer."

The voice of the woman filled the small room, stern and authoritative as she cast her gaze over the men that sat at the table with her. The cold steel walls bounced her words back and forth between them. Her eyes finally settled upon Feng's, narrowing very slightly as she regarded him. On the surface of the dark grey table before each of them lay a portfolio, identical in nature. The Councilwoman turned her gaze down to it, already intimate enough with its contents to not have to peruse it for long. They all were. The image of the man gazed back up at her, his eyes glittering with arrogance.

"The Council is pushing for progress in the investigation, Chief Feng, and the media and public are calling for action."

"You know how delicate this situation is," Feng began, his voice low as though fearing it would seep between the non-existent cracks in the walls.

The Councilwoman nodded. "It is fortunate that the Equalist extremists planned their attack when they did, otherwise the eyes of the city would be focused much more closely upon this establishment and you would not so easily be able to turn away the attention of the Council. However, even the simple-minded are beginning to see that your efforts here are less than substantial."

Feng's jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. The man who had served as his advocate in the meeting with the Council and Avatar two days previously sat again at his side. "It isn't wise for us to rush headlong into this. Li Hong has been taken in on previous accounts and the prosecution has all but been slaughtered by his father's lawyers."

"You have accumulated more than enough evidence by this point," the Councilwoman said. She pulled the file towards her and flipped through its contents. "Fingerprints have been collected from each of the bodies and verified, yes?"

The man sitting opposite Feng nodded, his hands clasped together and resting on the table before him. "That is so," he confirmed, and the Councilwoman heard the forced calm in his voice. She lifted her eyes to him and saw the set of his shoulders, seeing the intensity in his gaze behind the thick panes of his glasses as his hands fidgeted momentarily before he stilled himself. She surveyed him for a long moment before turning back to the file and searching its contents again. Her fingers, long and thin, plucked a blurred black and white photograph from amongst several of its brethren. The view of Li Hong was somewhat obscured by the wall of the building the photographer had been hiding behind, but his face was visible enough.

"How often is Li Hong tailed?" she asked without lifting her eyes.

"I have men tracking his movements the moment he steps into Triple Threat territory and for as long as he remains there," Feng replied.

"But they don't always have their eyes on him," the Councilwoman said. "You have yet to procure photographic evidence of him at the scene of the crimes themselves."

"Hong keeps a circle of Triple Threat members around himself whenever he is in their territory, particularly when he is with the victim," Feng's advocate spoke. "They have usually kept our agents from being able to get close enough to him, but this time…"

The Councilwoman arched her brow when the man gestured to the file. She sifted through the photographs until she eventually came upon a pair that drew a soft 'ah' from her thin lips.

The shots were both dark and blurred, their subject requiring the narrowing of one's gaze to properly appreciate, but what the Councilwoman held in her hands were images of Li Hong standing before his most recent victim, taken presumably from the roof of a nearby building. The young woman was strung up before him, she could see, and in his hand sat a hazy grey bulb of fire. The shadows cast upon his face in both images made it quite difficult for her to ascertain his identity, though she knew that it was him. What that truly meant was that it would be easier for his father's lawyers to discount this particular piece of evidence.

"This is an important development," she said nevertheless as she turned her eyes to the man who sat at the opposite end of the table to her. He was dressed immaculately, his black striped tie centred perfectly upon the clean white of his shirt and tucking neatly into his dark blazer. "Will it hold up in a court case?" she asked him.

Before he could answer her, however, Feng spoke. "You speak as though you have already decided that we _are_ going to attempt to take Li Hong to court."

"The time is not yet right," his advocate said.

"You are already aware that I don't possess the same degree of good will concerning illegal immigrants in this city as my fellow councilmembers," said the Councilwoman in a plain tone. "But these murders have been highly publicised and are drawing attention to the nature of Police action in the wake of them. If we allow it to continue for any longer, then we will only be encouraging these kinds of acts." Her eyes narrowed as she held Feng's gaze. "We do not want to have such a door opened, I assure you. Especially in light of the Equalist extremists' plot two days ago."

"We cannot afford to arrest Hong prematurely and make a mess of his prosecution case," Feng said, practically speaking through his teeth as he leaned forward. "It's more than just being made to look utterly foolish by his lawyers. His father made it a point to invest his financial support in the Police Force after Amon's revolution. Saikhan depended far too much on that support to repair and rebuild the force and now Red Sun Technologies has a substantial stake in our establishment. Li Hong's lawyers could clean us out at court, but his father has been buying his son's way out of trouble for several years now without even needing to get that far."

"I have been aware of Red Sun Technologies' involvement, shall we say, in the Police Force," the Councilwoman said, and then with a tone of distaste, "Saikhan was a weak willed man. It was a mistake on the Council's part to not remove him sooner."

"So you understand that we cannot treat this lightly," Feng continued. "Even if we were to bring a solid case against Hong, his father could damage the Police Force in retaliation. Red Sun Technologies is our main supplier of vehicles and airships and also conducts research and development for the improvement of metalbending officers' equipment."

"Then I suggest that it is high time the Police Force repairs its relationship with Future Industries."

Feng's expression soured. "I trust that you understand why I am unwilling to tarnish the name of this city's law enforcement with that brush."

"Asami Sato is not her father's daughter," the Councilwoman said. "I have made certain to keep my eyes and ears upon her."

"All the same," Feng began, but she cut across him.

"Chief Feng, I will not allow Republic City to see an even greater rise in the rate of criminal activity encouraged by Police inaction, nor will I allow the twisted few to think that they exist outside the reach of the law."

"Li Hong is for all intents and purpose beyond our reach," Feng returned with the shadow of a snarl.

"Is he?" the Councilwoman shot towards the man opposite her. He swallowed before he spoke.

"We've obtained more physical evidence than on any occasion where we've dealt with Hong," the man said. He spared a moment to indicate the photograph still held in her grip. "That in particular could make for a better case for us, though it would help if we had cleaner shots and several more of them, preferably showing exactly what he is doing," he finished with a slight grimace. "We also have Hong on record for his previous accounts of violence towards Water Tribe women – unofficially at least, and those are numerous enough by now to give us something to work with."

"Do we have eyewitnesses willing to speak yet?"

"Not without large enough incentives and the promise of anonymity," the man answered. "And considering where we would be getting them from, I don't think we could make much of their credibility."

"Hmm. And you," the Councilwoman said, turning to the silent, visibly nervous man serving as the lead forensic investigator. "Is there anything else you have found that is worthy of note?"

The man shook his head, his gaze flitting down to his fidgeting hands. "Bloody fingerprints are the best evidence we have right now, and I think we've had enough time and opportunities to procure them."

The Councilwoman's lips pressed thin; she was surprised that the man had not yet broken his vow to silence and spilled their deception to the ears of the public. It was clear from the first victim that the nature of their deaths had more than had an effect on him, and she did not doubt that having to sit in on secretive meetings such as these where they debated how long they would allow Li Hong to continue his actions unhindered did little to ease him. Fortunately however, she had good enough of an incentive for him to keep his mouth shut.

She dwelt in silence as she lowered her head, the room drawn into it along with her, awaiting her next words as she considered the photograph in the grasp of her finger and thumb. As she had said to Feng, she was more vocal with her opposition to the settling of illegal immigrants in Republic City. She was not callous enough to say that she had no care for them whatsoever, but it was an easier decision for her to make in allowing Li Hong to persist in his activities than if his targets had been legally recognised citizens.

"This is what we will do," she said when she lifted her eyes, turning them first in the direction of Feng before looking to the lawyer. "Prepare the case," she told him. "I am giving you a week."

The man looked expectedly uncertain with the length of time that she granted him, but he nodded nonetheless as she fixed him with a hard, unrelenting gaze. Feng predictably interjected a moment later.

"Did we not just discuss -?"

"Chief Feng, I am going to facilitate the reparation of the relationship between the Police and Future Industries, in the meantime I want Li Hong under heavy surveillance. He has murdered four women in the space of three weeks and his pattern suggests he is becoming further emboldened. I do _not_ want a fifth incident on our hands."

"Red Sun Technologies is not simply going to surrender their stake to Asami Sato," Feng said with dark and angry eyes. "And as I've said, arresting Li Hong and bringing him to court will do us no good whatsoever."

"Officially, no, it will not," the Councilwoman agreed. "Liwei Hong and his son are Fire Nation, as I am. For us, the honour of one's family name is impossible to understate, and I will threaten to disgrace theirs from here all the way to the Fire Nation capital and the ears of its Firelord if Li Hong is not removed from Republic City."

"Then who will we _officially_ be arresting?"

"Take your pick, Chief Feng," the Councilwoman said as she rose to her feet. "Li Hong has been operating in triad territory. Find a firebender prolific enough to warrant the attention of the public and make them responsible for these crimes."


	6. Chapter 6

Mako stepped out into the night, automatically digging his hands into the pockets of his second, albeit it thinner and shorter coat. Its lapels and collar were turned up as he moved away from the steps of the residential building, both to shield against the chill in the air and to obscure somewhat his features. He tucked his chin against his chest for the same reasons, turning his gaze left and right to ascertain which direction Korra had gone off in. Fortunately, he was spared the need to flip a coin and take a guess, spotting the tails of his borrowed overcoat and scarf flitting around the corner of Black Street. He turned and followed after her.

Streetlights burned along the edges of the pavement at frequent intervals, setting his partially hidden face awash with an orange glow interplayed with shadow as he walked quickly. The drone of passing vehicles and the clicking of footsteps were the most common sounds to meet his ear as he turned onto Black Street itself. Disjointed pieces of conversation floated through the cold night as his eyes locked onto the scarlet fabric wrapped around Korra's neck. True, he had meant her to take it to keep warm, but he had meant it also to serve as a reliable marker for him to follow. The vibrant colour stood out proudly amongst the darker palette that the city embraced when night fell.

With her in sight, Mako slowed the pace of his stride and angled his eyes down. It was not the first time he had tailed a mark, though as he walked he wondered briefly if Korra would be able to tell that someone was following her through earthbending. He knew of the technique earth and metalbenders employed in being able to sense particular vibrations in the ground and building an image according to the way those vibrations travelled from and back to the individual. He only hoped Korra was too distracted by her mood to think to suspect that he was following her. However, even as he thought this, he paradoxically hoped that she knew he _would_ follow her. Even if she was the Avatar, theoretically the most powerful bender in the world, and even if she was Korra, a physically strong and capable woman, he was still uneasy with the idea of her walking alone about the city at this time of night. Were their positions reversed, he hoped to think that Korra would feel the same way.

She crossed over the road in the wake of a passing Satomobile and turned right onto Greenfield Street. Mako followed, unsure of where she was unwittingly leading him. The way she had spoken to him before leaving the apartment had him uncertain of whether she had a destination in mind or would simply follow the lead of her feet. He immediately grew wary, however, when he realised she was crossing the invisible line into known Triple Threat territory. Mako was not sure how well Korra knew the city's geography, but he was certain that she must have known what she was stepping into. The streets and boundaries of each of the three prominent triads were practically common knowledge amongst the city's population. Sometimes, certain streets could not be avoided on one's journey, but at night only the few braved them. Oftentimes, it was considered that such bravery was stupidity.

Mako tugged up his collar as he walked, increasing his pace as Korra threatened to leave his sight. The triads were known for having a long, reliable memory and even though it had been years since he and his brother had worked for the Triple Threats, he did not wish to run the risk of being recognised. Coupled with that thought was the fact that it was likely someone would also recognise him for the young, green police officer he had been not three years ago walking the beat on some of these streets under the protection of daylight. Triad members and police officers typically did not get along well. Mako began to grow uncomfortable as he realised how alone he was. If something went wrong, he had no one to rely on besides Korra – and that was if she even knew he was there. They had not yet delved too deeply into Triple Threat territory, Korra walking along its fringes, but Mako's sense of caution allowed for no assumptions to be made.

A thought occurred to him as he noted the path she was taking, and he began to wonder if her destination was in fact Blue Lake Boulevard, the street upon which the most recent victim to the now infamous firebending murderer had been discovered. The pattern of the killer had been to perpetrate their crimes in locations that dwelt on the edges of the triad's known territory, making for a heavy sense of unease and anxiousness to settle upon those who lived in the vicinity. Mako did not know what Korra meant to accomplish by going to the warehouse, however. Even though the heavy police presence in that area had for the most part dissipated, it was still to his knowledge being treated as a crime scene. It would only create a situation worthy of a damaging front page newspaper report if she were to attempt to march in there.

Burrowing his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders as a particular gust of wind nipped his skin, Mako looked up from his feet to see Korra turn down yet another street. Belatedly did he realise that the distance between them had lengthened since he had taken to casting furtive glances about himself. He quickened his pace, his heels scuffing along the concrete slabs of the pavement. He cursed quietly for making the noise as other late-night walkers sharing the street with him glanced over their shoulders. When he reached the corner Korra had disappeared around, he cursed a little more audibly. This street was both shorter and less well lit than the one he was about to leave and Korra had vacated it before he had managed to reach it. He moved quickly, eyes shifting to their corners as he glimpsed the entrances of small, narrow side-streets and the smell of alcohol tainted the cold, crisp air.

Reaching the end of the street, Mako paused just outside the cone of orange light cast weakly from a flickering overhead lamp. A sense of dread stole over him as he found himself faced once again with a choice of which direction to take, but this time there was no sight of a scarlet scarf to make that choice easier for him. Were the circumstance different, perhaps he would have flipped a literal coin. He could not waste much time in trying to perceive what direction Korra had taken, instead deciding to trust his gut instinct and follow the lead of his feet. He turned right as she had done numerous times up until that moment. He took three more right turns after that. The red of his scarf failed to present itself to his searching gaze and soon Mako began to grow uncertain. If he had taken the wrong initial turning, then it would be unlikely that he could ever catch up to Korra at all. Anxious thoughts began to circle about his mind.

He was moving deeper into Triple Threat territory now, and though the name of the street he was presently on escaped him, its nature did not. A Satomobile coming towards him had its headlights set to truly pierce the darkness of the night and he turned his face away from the glare. Bright spots clung to the corners of his vision as the vehicle passed by, the driver apparently not in too much of a rush to get to his destination. At the back of his mind, Mako guessed that that destination would be a small, dingy motel room. He had walked passed a pair of women who had been clinging to the wall a few short moments ago, and he heard the rattle of the Satomobile's engine as the driver slowed to a crawl behind him. It was not long before he heard the sharp click of heels in the wake of his own footsteps.

"Hello, handsome," the woman purred in a soft, honeyed voice from behind his shoulder. Mako ignored her, though the scent of cheap perfume seemed to travel on the wings of her words to reach his nostrils. The pause in between the staccato of her stride shortened as she quickened her pace, coming up alongside him. "Care for some company?" she asked.

He spared her a single glance. "No," he said firmly, and then lengthened his stride.

"I can make it worth your while," she told him, disappearing from the periphery of his vision for only a moment. "What's the rush, honey?" she said when she moved to his side once more and looped an arm through his.

It was a cold night, and the woman was a warm, comfortable weight against his body. For a brief moment, Mako did nothing, merely appreciating it. But then he remembered himself and turned as he moved to disengage her. He paused as his eyes settled upon her. She was Water Tribe, and from the look of it barely older than he was. Her mouth was curved into a small, seductive smile, her lips glistening pink. Long black hair fell around her face, alluringly framing its shape, and the bright brown of her eyes drew him in and stilled his movements. She moved into him subtly, pressing her chest against him. Mako cursed himself as he glanced down at her exposed flesh. Her black leather jacket clung tightly to her form and its zipper was drawn down just enough to allow for an inviting peek at her cleavage.

Her smile widened as he caught himself and looked back up at her. "Like what you see?"

He made to answer but then stopped as his eyes searched her face. She was carefully made up, he could see, and the reason did not escape him. The shadow of a bruise clung to her left cheek. She was pretty, young and pretty and desperate. She smiled and spoke easily, hooding her eyes as she tilted her face to look up at him, but he glimpsed that desperation glittering at the edge of her gaze.

"You're a nice catch," she said, pulling on his arm and drawer him closer. "How about making a girl feel lucky tonight?"

"I have someone," Mako told her, putting a hand to hers to extricate himself.

"She doesn't have to know," the woman replied, holding onto him and threatening to overpower his senses with the stench of her perfume. "It'll be our little secret."

The loud, pained shout of a man interrupted his next words. They both turned as they heard it and Mako used the moment of distraction to pull himself away. "Hey, wait!" the woman called as he fled from her, her footsteps clicking after him for only a few short moments. Mako slowed to a swift walk as he turned the corner, reminding himself that he could not afford to draw attention his way. His stride was long and hurried, however.

The shout of the man had not come from the immediate vicinity, but nevertheless something in his gut drew him on. He passed by two men nursing identical liquor bottles and heard them briefly discussing the source of the noise before shrugging aside its importance. He hoped others had done the same. He skirted the advances of another hooker, uneasily noting that she was also Water Tribe, before turning onto a relatively empty street and coming upon the dark, narrow entrance of an alleyway. It was a small wonder that the strangled grunts of pain coming from its depths had not drawn more attention. Mako's eyes widened at what he saw, and in the next moment he bolted forwards to stop Korra from killing a man.

* * *

Korra was sunk deep into darkening thoughts, knowing not where she was going. Not truly, at least. She allowed her feet to lead her, stuffing her hands into the pockets of Mako's coat and pressing her chin into the warmth of his scarf. She could faintly smell his scent on it. Breaths of wind stirred her hair about her face as she pointed her eyes to the ground in front of her. She could hear the scuff of the heels of her boots as she walked.

When Mako had lost sight of her and then been forced to guess which direction she had taken, he had guessed correctly. For reasons she did not know, her feet favoured right turns tonight. She followed them dutifully, deep in thoughts that made little sense to her. Her mind was a thick haze, her anger and frustration a tangible presence within her that lacked a true focal point. Her body was tense, buzzing with pent-up energy that she felt the growing need to vent. Though she followed her feet, she was not paying much attention to her surroundings, not until she stepped onto the same street where Mako would later be propositioned by a hooker.

When she saw them, her long, powerful stride stuttered. These parts of the city were not known to her, and it was the first time she had walked these streets. Her mind went blank as she saw the first of the prostitutes, standing at the street corner with an arm wrapped around her body and the hand of the other clutching a cigarette between two fingers. She shivered, pressing her bare thighs together beneath the thin, short fabric of her skirt as she blew smoke into the air.

Korra was not as naïve as she once was; she knew what these women were and what they did for a living. She knew that they walked the streets late at night, offering their bodies to men. She had been shocked to learn of their existence, but did not share the disgust that was often directed at these women. Instead she was sorrowful, and sometimes angry. Angry that she did not know what to do to help these women, and angered by the city's nonchalance for their fates.

A Satomobile crawled up to the kerb and Korra watched the woman curve her lips with a smile and lean forward into the driver's window. It took her a long moment to look away. Korra may have known what they were and what they did, but it was the first time that she had seen a prostitute at work with her own eyes rather than hearing tales from the lips of others. She did not know what to think or do besides continue walking. But now her thoughts came to her with a little more clarity. The woman she left behind chatting up her latest customer had been Water Tribe, and now before her mind's eye drifted the image of the young woman who had been recently murdered.

Which streets had she walked? How many men had she taken to bed, and how many of them had left her with bruises? How many times had she looked to the centre of the great city she had fled from her home and family to find and cursed its name? Korra's hands balled into fists in her pockets as these thoughts afflicted her, lines scoring themselves into the skin of her brow as her expression grew dark. Someone was prowling streets such as these, preying on women who had been forced into a life from which they could see no escape and knew no one to whom they could turn for help. The thought brought to her remembrance the newspaper article that had left her despondent; she realised that it had had every right to be written.

She was the Avatar, the bringer of peace, harmony and balance. When Amon had brought Republic City to its knees, the people had turned to her. Not to the Council, not to the Police Force, but to her. She was the protector of the weak and helpless, a law of a different order. She was called to act when she saw a wrong that needed to be put right. She had allowed the authority that was her birthright as the Avatar to be subdued by the people that surrounded her. She had allowed herself to succumb to their words until she was little more than Republic City's badge, presented to the world as its property. She had allowed herself to be pushed to the sidelines in matters that should have concerned her, unwittingly bending to the sculpting hands of the Council and Police Force and fast becoming their favourite scapegoat.

Korra's mind was beginning to grow clearer, her thoughts making their circuit more smoothly. The one particular thought she had harboured for so long was beginning to blossom into an idea, and that idea would soon become an intention rooted deeply within her. She would be unshakeable in her decision, and it would pull her forwards towards a moment that would shape her future thereafter. But to every process, there is a catalyst, something that would turn Korra resolutely onto the path she had been shirking. It came as she turned right yet again onto another the street, her shoulders set and tense, her eyes narrowed and dark, and her lips pressed thin and tight.

A man stepped out in front of her, appearing as if from the shadows themselves and giving her a start. His eyes were small and dark, set deep in his pale, angular face as his lips were pulled into a slanted grin, exposing teeth stained with tobacco. The culprit was clutched between his fingers, wispy grey lines curling into the air from its end as he tapped ashes onto the ground.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing," he said, his gaze roving over her form. She felt ice creeping up her spine as she watched him undress her with his eyes. "I'm looking for some company tonight."

"I'm not interested," Korra said curtly. She moved to step around him, but the man blocked her path.

"Come on, now," he said, lifting his hands in an open, welcoming gesture. "It's a cold night. I've got some good, hard cash, and I want you to warm my bed."

Korra's mouth curled in disgust at the lecherous gaze he levelled at her. "I'm not in the mood for this. Get out of my way."

She shouldered through him and heard the man laugh as he was pushed aside. His voice followed after her, as did the man himself. "Playing hard to get, are we?" he called as he picked up his stride to match hers. "Well, I can't say no to a bit of a challenge. Nothing a woman likes more than being _taken._"

Korra ignored him, clenching her teeth and feeling the muscles of her jaw pulse. The odour of tobacco wafted over her shoulder and she felt the proximity of the man's presence just before his hand closed around her upper arm. She pulled roughly away from his grip even as he pulled her to a stop.

"I'm warning you," she said as she rounded on him. "Leave me alone."

The man arched his brow at her words, smiling humorously. "Warning me? Now, I'm a patient man, but don't push my boundaries. How about we just cut to the chase? I'm offering you good cash and no doubt the best fuck of your life. Win-win," he said, reaching his hand down to grab her around the waist. She batted his arm away, her jaw beginning to ache as she clenched down on both her teeth and the reins of her self-control.

"Last chance," she told him, barely moving her lips. "Touch me again and you'll regret it."

And then she turned away from him. No sooner had she done so did a peculiar sensation steal over her. It was a moment too late that she realised that she had made a mistake. She should not have given this man her back. He was upon her before another thought could formulate in her mind.

"Fucking whore," the man growled as he grabbed the ends of the scarf tied securely about her throat, pulling her backwards and turning her around to face him as she spluttered violently. He filled his free hand with the front of her coat and forced her up against the wall, drawing a sharp noise of pain from her lips. "I told you, _don't_ test my patience."

He was heavy upon her, and his breath stank of stale smoke. His eyes, blazing with anger, bored into hers as his mouth curled into a snarl. Shock spread through Korra like a cold bolt of lightning. Her gaze grew wide as her heart threw itself against its cage.

"You fucking savage," the man named her. "Who do you think you are, giving me threats? You're worth nothing. Nobody gives a fuck about you. You're _nothing,_ do you hear me?"

She heard him, by the Spirits she heard him. But all she could do was stare at him, wide-eyed and frozen. Her arms and legs would not obey her. She struggled when his hand went to her throat, but he only gripped her harder. And then they were moving, or rather the man was moving and she was being dragged along the wall in his wake. She lifted her hands to try and pry his hand away from her neck as she felt the corner of the wall momentarily digging into her back, but he ripped her hands away, pulling her into the darkness of the alley. The metallic lid of an overflowing trashcan clattered to the ground as she kicked out at him.

"I've had a shitty day," he told her as he pressed himself against her once more, his hand pulling at the buttons of her coat. "I'll tell you about it though, don't worry. You and I are going to get real acquainted."

It was a belated thought, one that had needed to fight its way through the thick, oppressive fog that had settled upon her mind and clogged the pathways between her brain and her limbs, but as it finally found a gap in that fog and burst into her mind with utterly clarity, she realised what this man was intending to do. Again, she felt a peculiar sensation settle upon her; it was an absurd, impossible calm as she watched the man snarl and growl as he pulled at her coat. The calm before the storm.

This could not be happening to _her_, for she was the Avatar. It would _not_ happen to her, for she was the Avatar. She was the _Avatar._

Korra drove her foot to the ground and the man was suddenly thrown off balance, his grip at her neck loosening in surprise. She lifted her left hand and curled her fingers around the man's wrist, her expression swiftly darkening and moulding itself to the rage that bubbled beneath the surface of her skin. Her right moved to his inner elbow before he had truly realised what was happening. He became very much aware, however, when she found his pressure points. She ground her thumb into him and the man jolted violently as though she had flooded him with electricity, giving a loud shout of pain as she pulled his hand clear away from her throat and then proceeded to bend his arm against the direction of the joint. She was hardly aware of the jostled and loosened scarf slipping from around her neck to the ground as she slid her foot forward deliberately and manipulated the earth.

Concrete fetters formed about his ankles, locking into the ground itself as the man's eyes widened. Korra's lips peeled apart to reveal bared teeth as she all but increased the pressure of her thumb, feeling blood well up beneath its nail.

"What the fuck…are you doing?" the man demanded in a strained voice, yelping as she turned her thumb in his flesh. "Savage…bitch," he cursed her. "Let me go -!"

She obliged him, but there was barely a moment of respite for the man as she lifted her thumb from his inner elbow and instead slammed her hand into his throat. She held him thus, her left hand angling his arm almost to the point of breaking as the fingers of her right choked him into silence.

Never before had she felt such fury. Her vision was ringed with red and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. The man's eyes began to bulge from their sockets and she felt his throat undulate against her palm as he tried in futility to swallow air. His hand reached up to grab her wrist, but she slammed him to the wall at his back. She slid her heel across the ground with purpose once more and rendered the man's wayward arm still. She held him there, unrelenting, too consumed in her emotions to allow a single logical thought to take hold within her mind. She did not hear the footsteps fast approaching, did not hear Mako calling her name until he was all but standing in front of her.

"…Korra. Korra! You have to let him go. Let him go, Korra!"

She heard his voice at last and turned to him. His reaction to the look in her eyes was the most scared she had ever seen him.

"Let him go, Korra," he repeated, and instead of reaching to pry her hands away, he moved his hands to her shoulders and met her gaze.

"No," she told him. His golden eyes distracted her. She wanted to pour her rage upon the man choking in her grip but Mako drew her gaze to him alone. And then his hand was at her cheek, his palm cool upon her flesh. His eyes were anxious and his voice hurried as he spoke, but he called to her as only he could, reaching through the flames of her emotions and pulling her free.

"Baby. Please. Do it for me. Let him go, it isn't worth it."

She struggled to hold onto her rage, to resist the pull of Mako's hand as he drew her from its depths. It _was_ worth it. Mako did not know what this man what done to her – what he had intended to do to her.

"Korra, it's okay," Mako said gently. "Let him go."

How many others had suffered the fate that she had escaped? How many more would suffer it if she did as Mako asked her? This was it, her moment to act in her capacity as the Avatar and make a choice that mattered. It was not _okay_; she could not just _let him go_.

He spoke her name softly, pleading. "Korra." He saw the truth of the choice that she had yet to. "This is not who you are, Korra. Don't do this."

Part of her screamed as her fingers loosened about the man's throat. She heard its furious cry as the man's head lolled awkwardly against his chest in unconsciousness. Mako pulled her into his embrace the moment her hands parted contact with the man, crushing her against him. Only gradually did she lift her hands to his back in return, and as she did her thoughts were in utter disarray. Over his shoulder, she watched the earthen restraints about the man's limbs crumble to dust. The man slumped down to the ground, his body folding unnaturally as he lay upon the floor.

When Mako eventually released her, he held her face in his hands and asked her if she was alright. Korra nodded numbly. Mako turned then to the fallen man and rearranged his sprawled form so that he lay on his side facing the wall. After doing so, he moved away and ducked down beside her for a moment. When he stood to his feet, he had his scarf clutched in his grip, shaking off the dirt that clung to its tails.

"Come on," he said, curving his arm around her waist and turning towards the opposite end of the alley. "Let's go home."

* * *

He wanted to move quickly and leave the Triple Threat's streets behind as soon as possible, but Korra's pace was slow and he did not want to rush her. He kept his arm around her, holding her close to him, silently offering his strength. For the first few minutes as they walked, Korra seemed to have drifted away, her mind elsewhere and her body piloting itself. When he looked across at her, her face was tilted to the ground, dark locks of hair falling to partially obscure an unfocused gaze. She seemed to awaken eventually, however, mirroring his gesture and circling an arm around his lower back. She lifted her face and her hair fell away, allowing him to see clearly the contemplative shadow in her eyes and the downward curve of her lips. She did not yet speak, but he was encouraged nonetheless.

As they passed beneath the weak glow of a streetlight, to any onlookers no doubt appearing to be a common couple out for an uncommonly late walk, Mako found his own voice. "Are you okay?" he asked her. It was a long moment before she nodded mutely. He paused and silence settled upon them once more. Her expression was slowly beginning to set into something hard, losing the sense of uncertainty that had previously clouded it. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and careful. "What happened back there, Korra?" Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. "I let my guard down, and he attacked me," she answered.

There was more to it, he knew. Even if she had managed to keep her voice emotionless, which she did not, from the scene that Mako had witnessed he knew that it was not a simple altercation that had occurred between Korra and the man. His career as a police officer and in particular a detective had trained and sharpened his eye and mind. His scarf, now folded small and bundled into his pocket had lain strewn on the ground at her feet. The front of her coat had been a ruffled mass of wrinkles, two of its buttons hanging loosely from their threads. He had had to hop over the cylinder of a trashcan lying askew in the middle of the alley. And then there was the fact that she had been close to choking the life out of a man. When she had turned her eyes to his, he had balked in the face of the sheer fury he saw in her gaze.

Mako could come to his own conclusions, he was intelligent enough. He knew that he should not push Korra to tell him what exactly had happened even as the thought of it inspired anger within him. He did not want her to dwell on it, to have to remind herself by telling him, not after the look he had seen in her eyes. He tried not to think of what he may have found if he had delayed but a moment longer.

"It's okay," he told her. "Let's just get ourselves home."

There was silence but for their footsteps in the length of time it took to pass beneath the cones of two more streetlights before Korra stopped and spoke.

"I can't do this."

She disengaged from him, pulling away and folding her arms across her chest. She lifted her right hand to her brow a moment later and closed her eyes, turning away from him. He moved over to her, placing his hands to her shoulders. "Korra –"

She cut across him, trying to shrug out from beneath his hands. "No. I can't."

"Korra, let's not do this here," he said, gently turning her around to face him. "Let's go home."

"No," she said, looking up at him. "If I do that, then I'll end up letting you sweet talk me out of doing what I should have done in the first place."

"Korra, you're angry. Your head isn't clear –"

"It's perfectly clear," she said fiercely. "It's clearer than it's ever been, Mako. I know what I need to do."

"You need to come home," he told her earnestly. "We can talk about this properly. You can rage and scream at me if you have to. Please, Korra."

She shook her head, her gaze hardening. "I've let this go on for too long," she said. "It ends tonight."

"What are you…?"

"The firebender," she snapped. "The one roaming the streets at his leisure, taking the lives of innocent women while I sit on my hands."

"Korra," Mako began, but she trod on his attempt to speak.

"They are my people," she said, unfolding her arms and pressing her palm to her heart. "My _kin_. This city hates us for no other reason than the place of our birth. So when we are cut down in the streets, nobody cares. No one listens to our cries for help, Mako. Not the Council, not the Police, not the common citizen, not even me. For so long, I didn't know what was really going on in this city, and even once I did, I did _nothing._"

Mako was utterly confused, unable to catch up to her train of thought and buffeted aside by the whirlwind of her emotions. "Korra. Baby, what are you _saying?_"

"That man tried to rape me," she said, and the suddenness of her words hit him like a fist to the gut. He could see the flames reigniting in her gaze as she spoke. "He told me I was nothing. That no one cared about me."

His hands held her face firmly between them in the next moment. "You know that isn't true," he told her fiercely. "You _know_ it isn't true. I love you, Korra."

But she made an angry sound and pulled away from him. "You don't understand," she told him.

"Then help me!"

"I'm the Avatar, Mako! One in a Spirits-damned million. That's the only reason I was able to stop that bastard. How many other women are afforded that luxury? Were I not who I was, he would have had his way with me and left me to rot in the same alley."

"You're more than just the Avatar. You're Korra. You're _strong,_" he told her, grasping her upper arm, "and you wouldn't have let that happen to you."

"Korra almost _did _let that happen to her," she returned.

In the wake of her words was silence. Mako stared, stunned and speechless. Korra's gaze was hard and unrelenting upon him.

"He knew that he could do what he wanted with me because the city doesn't give a spider rat's ass about people from the Water Tribe, even less so because I'm a woman. And what are we Water Tribe women, Mako? What is it that's all we are good for?" she asked with a voice that smoked with anger. "We're the city's whores," she spat vehemently. "We're used and then cast aside until the next time someone needs to satisfy their depraved, conniving needs."

"And so what happens then, Mako, when everyone knows that the word of a Water Tribe woman is worth less than nothing? What happens when you have no friends or family, no one who you can say you trust, no one who will miss you if you disappear one day? People like the man who tried to rape me happen. People like the firebender who is torturing and killing women happen. They know that can do as they wish because _no one_ will care. I have sat in meeting after meeting, Mako, listening to Chief Feng's bullshit for the last three weeks as each of those women were murdered and the Police did _nothing_ to bring the culprit to justice. And yet you were able to act on information regarding the Equalists' attack in an _instant._"

Mako's throat finally became unstuck, words managing to break through the dam and make their way to his tongue. "Korra, you know that's different," he managed to say, and that was all.

She smirked bitterly. "Oh, I know. And that's why I'm taking matters into my own hands, like I should have done in the beginning."

Her tone worried him. "Korra, what are you going to do?" he asked as she extricated her arm from his grip.

"I'm the Avatar," she told him. "I can make the choices the rest of you can't, or simply won't."

She was turning, walking away, but he moved in front of her, blocking her path. "What choices?"

She met his concerned gaze. "I'm going to stop that firebender, Mako. Tonight."

"The Police don't even know who or where he is, Korra."

"And I'm going to find out." She turned her eyes aside, gesturing to the streets around them. "We're in Triple Threat territory, exactly where these murders have been happening. The rest of us hardly have a clue what goes in on these streets, but there is one man who will know everything about them."

"Zolt."

"Zolt," Korra echoed. "He's going to tell me what I want to know."

Mako could not stifle the noise of disbelief that rose from his throat. "Korra, think. Do you really expect Zolt to want to talk to the Avatar, let alone be in the same room as you?"

"He will," Korra said plainly. "I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse."

Mako laughed humourlessly. "What could you possibly have that Zolt would…" He trailed off then, the realisation coming to him with each word he spoke and with each moment that he met Korra's fixed, unchanging expression. "Bending," he said slowly. "You're going to give him his bending back."

Korra gave him no sign of acknowledgement, merely holding his eyes as the weight of the revelation settled upon him. Her shoulders were set and her eyes were coldly resolute.

"You can't," he told her in the next instant. "Are you insane?"

"I'm the Avatar."

"And you're planning on restoring the bending of a man notorious for his crimes against non-benders in particular."

"Because I can make that kind of choice. Don't think I don't know what the repercussions could be. Don't think I haven't thought about this long and hard for _weeks_ while sitting on my hands and allowing more people to suffer. I am going to put an end to this," she said. "My way."

"And there is a _better_ way," Mako told her. "You need to work _with_ the Police. You need to do things the _right_ way." He had widened his stance without fully realising it. "I won't let you do this, Korra."

She was silent for a moment, and then she took a single, small step towards him. "And how are you going to stop me?"

Her words and the truth of the intention he heard in her voice was a shock that hit him with the force of a physical blow. Her gaze never wavered from his, and her bright blue eyes were hard and frosty. For a moment, he was defiant, meeting the ice of her gaze with the fire in his own, daring her to act on her word. But then he deflated. He looked away; he could not call her bluff, not in this. Korra meant too much to him. He loved her with all that he had to give and could not for even a moment think or dream of hurting her.

"Do the Triple Threats still keep their old headquarters?"

He turned his eyes back to hers. He thought he saw her gaze soften, sadness flitting over the surface of her eyes. Whether it had or had not, all he saw in the following moment was pure, unyielding resolve.

He shook his head. "I can't help you. Not in this."

"Fine," she said. She walked passed him. He could not stop himself.

"Korra," he called, turning. "Please, don't do this."

She answered without looking back at him. "Don't follow me, Mako."

And then she was gone.

* * *

Korra looked up at the building as she stood in front of it, slowly drawing her hands out from the warmth of her pockets. Lights occupied windows in all six of the building's storeys, though the source of noise seeping through its front doors was prominently located on the lowest floor. Korra had been here only once before, four years prior, and at that time nothing but silence had met her ear as she and Mako snuck up to the building. It had been an unnerving experience, and to settle the sense of unease creeping up her spine, she had boldly stepped forward to kick the doors wide open. They had found the room behind it utterly devoid of life, but Korra knew that would not be the case this time around.

The drone of the odd Satomobile and the infrequent chatter of passing pedestrians slipped around her as she drew in a slow, measured breath and then pushed the air between her lips. She kept the image of the young, tortured woman at the forefront of her mind, turning it into the sharp, unyielding presence at her back that pushed her forwards. She would not turn back now. She unconsciously curled and flexed her fingers before moving towards the restaurant door, her footsteps light upon the steps that led up to a small wooden porch. A bell chimed somewhere above and behind her as she pushed open the door, drawing for a moment the eyes of several of the customers.

When Korra wore her hair down, her thick locks fell past her shoulders and around her face. The first time Mako had seen her intimately without her customary high ponytail, he had commented that she looked like a completely different person. The city and its people were very much used to seeing her with her hair up, and so the glances that she received as she stepped into the warmth of the restaurant were for the most part brief and indifferent. One or two lingered, but only for a moment longer before the individual turned back to a conversation or their meal.

A cloying, greasy aroma met her nostrils as the doors swung shut behind her and she grimaced, feeling her stomach tighten. Circular tables occupied the centre of the room, arranged in somewhat of an irregular pattern. Along the left hand side of the room was gathered a column of small rectangular booths, for the time being mostly unoccupied aside from a weary looking couple sharing a large bowl of noodles. The red plush seats at their backs were fraying at the corners, wrinkles creeping along their surface. The sounds of intermingling conversation and the clinking of cutlery and glasses filled her ears as she looked to the bar built into the corner of the room on its right hand side. A man stood behind the counter, mechanically pushing a cloth around the innards of several tumblers.

As she moved through the room in the direction of the bar, she saw the drinks rack at his back give way to a rectangular hole in the wall, allowing her to look through into a kitchen smeared with steam and clanging with voices and pots. Several stools stood in front of the counter, most untidily askew and one dipping to the left on a cracked, weakening leg. At the end of the bar, a lone woman with pallid skin nursed a drink, her eyes low and unfocused. The bartender looked up as Korra lowered herself to the seat of a stool, a foot propped up on the circular rung holding its legs together.

"What can I getcha', miss?" he asked.

"I want to speak to the man who owns the place," she said quietly, meeting his grey gaze.

"That'd be me," he said, though he lifted his eyebrow at her request. He set the glass and dampened cloth to the counter. "I run this little joint."

Korra shook her head, her eyes piercing. "I don't think you heard me," she said. "I want to speak to the man who _owns_ the place."

"Maybe you misunderstood me," the man began, but Korra slid her arm onto the counter, letting her hand rest near to his.

"I didn't."

He stared at her, perplexed by her attitude. However, when he began to feel the unnatural warmth emanating from the dark skin of her fingertips, his gaze dropped like a stone to her hand. He lifted it just as quickly, leaning forward as he searched her face.

"You –"

She surreptitiously held a finger to her lips, eyes narrowed as she then passed the movement off as scratching the corners of her mouth. "Something simple," she said to his earlier question in a slightly raised voice. "Make it quick," she added more quietly.

"He won't talk to you," the bartender told her as he picked up the glass and cloth once more.

She drummed her fingers lightly on the counter. "He will want to. Believe me."

The man appraised her carefully. "One moment," he eventually said. He stepped out from behind the bar after serving her a highball, pushing through the door leading into the kitchen. She brought the glass to her lips only once in the time it took for him to return.

"Bathroom is on your left through those doors, miss," he said simply, pointing over her shoulder. She nodded, pushing her glass away. "Thank you." The man moved away to the end of the bar to serve a recently arrived customer as she stood to her feet and followed his directions.

The hinges of the simple brown door complained as it swung shut behind her. To her left and right were identically coloured doors, grey plaques sitting high and centred upon them and depicting the gender to which each room behind them belonged. Another door stood directly in front of her, upon its surface emblazoned a vivid red sign that prohibited her entrance. She heard a lock click a few moments later and the door was pulled open, revealing a pair of men, one standing behind the shoulder of the other and both wearing severe expressions. She was appraised sharply by both of them.

"Avatar," the foremost man spoke, his voice gravelly as it was produced from a neck thick with muscle. Korra said nothing in response, and he said nothing else besides that. The man behind him then stepped away as he turned aside and made space for her to step through the door. She came through into the low light of a stairwell and heard the door being pushed shut and locked behind her. She moved, keeping the wall to her back and the two men in front of her. The slighter of the two, standing on the steps leading up to the higher floors of the building, tucked his hands into the pockets of dark brown trousers before he spoke.

"Not every day we get a visit from the high and mighty," he said tonelessly. "Zolt wants to know what you're up to, Avatar."

"I want to talk. That's all."

"Sure you do," the man replied, the brim of his fedora casting curving shadows across his gaze. "I hope you remember where you are right now. Best you do away with any stupid plans for heroism, babe. You might take out two or three of us, but a whole building? We'll send you back to City Hall in a body bag. Now, what do you want?"

Years ago, she would have risen immediately to such a threat. But she was wiser now, and patient. "I have a proposition for Zolt," she said.

"What kind?"

"One he won't refuse."

"Right. And you expect him to see you based on that alone."

"Yes, because I am certain that what Amon did is making it quite difficult for him to keep control of your little group."

The eyes of the man narrowed. "That's dangerous talk, Avatar."

"I'm sure Zolt agrees," Korra said.

Silence persisted between them, hard, unrelenting gazes locked together until the man turned to his partner. "Stay with her. I'll be back."

She listened to the sound of his footsteps upon the cold stone steps as he disappeared from her sight. She folded her arms loosely as she waited, not meeting directly the pointed glare of the thickset man who stood beside the locked door, but keeping her eyes on him all the same. It was not long before his partner returned, the skin of his palm squeaking intermittently against the handrail of the staircase.

"He'll see you," the man said. "Follow me."

The second and apparently largely mute man approached her as she pushed away from the wall, a thick hand moving forwards to grasp her arm.

"I left the last man who I didn't want touching me lying unconscious in an alleyway," she said pointedly. The man's lips began to curl into a snarl as his partner turned to look over his shoulder at them, his gaze settling upon Korra before turning away.

"Leave her be," he told his partner. The man glared down at Korra for a long moment and she did not blink underneath the ferocity of his gaze. "Are we done seeing who has the bigger balls?" said his partner, and at that the man finally stepped away, though his eyes remained dark. They proceeded up the stairs, Korra wedged between them. She allowed her hand to trail along the cold, gritty wall along the way, keeping her senses sharp.

They left the stairwell when they reached the third floor of the building, stepping into the comparative warmth of a corridor. She was led to yet another brown, nondescript door. The man in front of her lifted his hand to the grey, button-shaped doorknob and turned it, pushing the door open. She followed him as he stepped forwards into the room, feeling the presence of the man at her back. The thin, threadbare carpet that lined the corridor outside gave way to its more elegant cousin beneath the soles of her boots. The low, uneven light that had crept along the walls transformed into one that was bright and strong, hanging poised from the ceiling at the centre of the room.

Korra met the amber gaze of the man sitting comfortably behind a large desk, the dark brown plush of his chair emitting a small whine as he shifted his posture. Zolt leaned forward, resting his hands on the surface of the table. His gaze was alive and searching, attempting to pierce into her before she had yet said a word to him. The two men who had escorted her stood behind her shoulders, hands clasped before them as they waited. Korra did not drop her guard. She kept her arms loose and her feet, though still, light upon the floor. She would not be taken unawares again.

"So, Avatar Korra, I understand you have a proposition for me," Zolt spoke.

"I do," she said. "But I will discuss it with you alone."

The men behind her glanced to each other before looking to Zolt. His sharp gaze shifted away from her after a long moment, moving between the two men at her back. "Wait outside," he told them. They nodded slowly and departed, pulling the door shut with a deafening click in the silence that settled upon the room. Korra did not endeavour to break it, keeping her peace. Zolt was a man who was used to being manipulative of the people in his presence, to being in control of any and every situation he found himself in and all its elements, but right now he was eager. Korra waited and was rewarded.

"So? What is it?"

Korra lifted her arms from her sides. "These are your streets, Zolt. You know them better than anyone. Nothing happens in your territory that you aren't the first to know about."

"I'm sure that you didn't come here simply to flatter me, Avatar, though I am deserving of it and all that you say is true."

The man's eyes gleamed with arrogance as he spoke. Korra lowered her arms and regarded him coolly.

"There is a firebender running loose in your streets and murdering innocent women," she said. "I want to know who he is and where I can find him."

"I could tell you those things," Zolt said, folding his fingers into one another and resting his chin upon his hands. "However, I am sure you know the business in which I predominantly operate. People pay rather handsomely for our…protection."

"I know the schemes you run," Korra said. "They aren't my concern right now."

"Delightful. But you misunderstand me," Zolt said, the corners of his mouth pulled upwards. "The man you seek is paying rather generously for my silence. I think I can say quite confidently, Avatar Korra, that you do not possess the same monetary means as he. Unless, of course, you have something else to offer me."

Korra was silent for a long moment. There was a voice, small and insistent, that chanted at the back of her mind. She drew in a deep breath and steeled herself.

"I do."

"I hope that it is of great value, then. Otherwise, as I'm sure you can understand, I will find it hard to be interested."

"Perhaps these last few years have not been so easy on you. I have heard that the Agni Kais are on the verge of tearing apart their leadership."

Zolt's smile was strained. "Your point, Avatar?"

"I will give you back your bending, Zolt," Korra said, "and in return, you will give me the man I seek."

Zolt's eyes were afire the moment her words left her lips. He remained still, but she could see the eagerness shining in his gaze and feel the previously guarded sense of desperation begin to seep through the cracks of the walls he had erected to contain it.

"You ask a difficult thing of me. The man in question has been quite the financial benefactor. The Triple Threat's coffers have never been so full."

Korra began to turn away. "Well then, I will leave you to hold on to your yuans. No doubt they will save you when your men decide that they have grown tired of a disgraced non-bender leading them."

"Wait."

She paused, and then slowly turned back to face him.

"How are we to even conduct such an exchange?" he asked carefully. "I could very simply lie to you after you return my bending."

"You will tell me what I want to know _before_ I return your bending, Zolt. I have my own means with which to tell if you have lied to me."

"And you could very simply kill me after you have gained the information you so desire."

"I will not harm you. On my word as the Avatar."

Zolt spoke slowly. "And who is to say that I am bound by such honour? For what reason should I not destroy you the moment you return my bending? This building is full of my men."

Korra's gaze was cold. "Have you ever seen the Avatar in wrath, Zolt?" He waited, eyes intense and unblinking. "I am told that such an Avatar forgets all mercy and compassion. I have been told that the world should fear such a one."

Zolt was silent for a long moment. The feet of his chair pulled at the carpet when he stood to his feet, his hand trailing along the edge of the table as he stepped around it to meet her in the centre of the room. He smiled as he spoke. "I understand, Avatar."

"Good," she said, moving so that she could face the right hand wall and have the door firmly fixed in the corner of her sight. "Now kneel."

Zolt smirked as he did so, showing no hesitation as he lowered himself before her. Korra did not spare a single moment to allow herself to ponder her decision. She settled her hands over his forehead and heart with practiced swiftness. He told her the name of the man she sought when she demanded it, told her that he was at present within Triple Threat territory. She felt the flames of her anger begin to rise, licking the walls of the furnace that was her heart now that she had a name at which to direct it. But she had yet to truly confirm his identity. Soft white illumination crept into the corners of the room as her eyes and fingertips began to glow.

It was an ability she had first learned at the hands of her predecessor and something she had then explored and refined as she restored the hope and lives of those who had fallen to Amon's terrible power. She tugged Zolt's memories forth as her own power surged through his body, calling before her third eye a truth that was beyond his ability to corrupt. A memory was pure, unchanging, an infallible truth that she could trust, knowledge that imparted itself upon her and settled into the storehouse of her mind. Her energy flowed through his veins and reached the cold, empty void at his core. All it took was a spark; her will gave birth to the new, strong flame that roared to life at the centre of his being. And at the same time, as she learned the truth and saw Zolt deal with the man whose name she now knew, as she listened to that man speak of his nefarious intentions with perverse delight, the furnace of her heart struggled to contain her emotion.

Korra pulled her hands from Zolt and stepped away before she lost herself.

He stood slowly to his feet as her chest rose and fell and her eyes darkened with a foreboding shadow, his attention only for himself. He lifted his hand before his face and called into being that which had been lost to him for so long. Korra watched the smile curve his lips as the flame danced in the reflection of his gaze.

"My many thanks, Avatar Korra," he said quietly. The moment afterwards stretched and the air grew thick with tension as Zolt held the gradually expanding bulb in his palm. Korra felt its heat as the air about the flame shimmered. Eventually, however, Zolt lifted his eyes to her. He closed his fingers around the fire and quenched it.

"It has been a pleasure doing business with you."

"Know this," Korra said with narrowed eyes and a low voice, "I am not condoning your actions. I have not forgotten who you are or what you have done, or the people you have terrorised and persecuted. One day, Zolt, I will come for you."

The man smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I look forward to it, Avatar."

She watched him carefully as she made her way to the door.

Minutes later, Korra stood outside the restaurant once more. Her heart seethed. The cool wind that blew upon her and tickled her cheeks fled in the next moment as she turned the heat of her gaze upon it. His name, his face, his words – all of it burned brightly at the forefront of her mind. She roughly shoved her hands into her pockets as she felt her nails pressing against the flesh of her palm. She turned as a Satomobile droned on by, following the directions that she had gleaned from Zolt as she began her journey.

A man emerged from the shadows. "Korra."

She stopped. "Takka."

"Aye," the man said.

"How much have you seen tonight, Takka?" she asked him.

"We saw everything," he answered, his eyes pained.

"Even the man who attacked me."

"Yes."

"You did not try to help," she said.

Takka's jaw was tight even as he parted his lips. "As you ordered."

A year after she had returned from the South Pole as a fully realised Avatar, a particular conversation with Tenzin had brought to her the realisation that she now had the authority to instruct the Order of the White Lotus. Having earlier come to the knowledge that they still had her followed when she was in the city, she had called forth the men and women assigned to shadow her and they had been forced to reveal themselves. She had then commanded them to follow her no longer. They had begged her forgiveness and told her that was the one order they could not obey.

The instance where her predecessor had effectively been killed and risked the entire existence of the Avatar line thereafter had haunted him until his dying day. In the agreement that Aang had made with the Order regarding the protection of the Avatar to come after him was included a clause entailing that the current Avatar was to have a discrete White Lotus presence about them at all times, specifically to protect against a threat to the existence of the Avatar Spirit. It was something she could not revoke or change until she lay on her death bed and the passing on of her supernatural inheritance was ensured.

So instead, Korra had commanded them not to intervene in her life in any way, shape or form unless, and only unless, the Avatar Spirit was at risk. There was dissent amongst them at this, but she promised that all who disobeyed her order would be disgraced and cast from the ranks of the White Lotus without a second thought. She had lived seventeen years of her life constantly being reminded of their unyielding gaze upon her; she wanted as little to do with them as much as she could help it.

"We would have stopped him if things had gone too far," Takka said then.

"And faced disgrace and dismissal from the Order afterwards."

"Yes," he answered her resolutely.

She looked away. "How much have you heard tonight, Takka?"

"Everything," he said.

She turned back to him, her gaze hard. "I don't care what you think of me," she said. "I don't care if you don't like it. I'm doing what needs to be done."

The man inclined his head. "I am a servant. We do not question the master."

"You are not my slave," she hissed.

"No," Takka agreed. "But that is not the reason I call you master. A servant sees and listens. He regards the one to whom he bows his head and deems that her heart is good. He will follow such a one where they shall lead him, for she has his trust. He chooses of his own accord to serve her, and well."

Korra swallowed. "Take me to him," she told the man.

He inclined his head once more before gesturing to the waiting Satomobile.


	7. Chapter 7

At the same time as Korra stood in front of the restaurant, Mako stood in front of a clear-windowed box, his brow furrowed in thought. He pushed his hands deep into either pocket, soon rewarded with a soft, metallic clinking and the smooth feel of the coins. He pulled several free, clutching them in his palm as he drew in a contemplative breath. After a moment, he reached forwards and pulled open the door to the telephone booth.

The innards of the booth once the door swung shut behind him possessed an eerie quality of silence. The walls seemed to press in on him from all sides, and in front of him, the chunky device itself occupied a good amount of space. He unhooked the bell-shaped listening device, at the same time slotting the yuans in hand into the machine. He took a moment to bring to mind the number he wanted to call. He could literally count on his fingers the amount of times he had made this particular call; Korra was usually the one to call him. The candlestick receiver of the telephone was built into the bulk of the machine itself and Mako leaned forward to speak into it as, after a brief pause, a voice began to filter into his ear.

"Councilman Tenzin's residence."

"Uh, hello," Mako began uncertainly, but then he fell silent as his mind worked slowly and he realised that the voice that had spoken did not belong to Pema, who usually answered the telephone if one of her children had not reached it first. Instead, he realised, the voice belonged to another older woman he was somewhat familiar with. The only thing was she had not been living in Republic City for the last three years.

"Chief?" he said, his voice rising in surprise.

"To whom am I speaking?" the woman asked crisply.

"Oh, my apologies," Mako said quickly, slipping into a more formal voice unconsciously. "It's Mako."

"Ah, the firebender. You are still serving in the force, yes?"

"Yes, Chief," Mako replied. "I was assigned to a new department shortly after you left."

"There is no need to call me 'Chief', son. I do not hold that title right now."

"Ah…right. My apologies. But I thought you were in Ba Sing Se, ma'am," he said tentatively. "Helping to set up new metalbending academies…?"

"That was so, but now I am here at the Council's behest. However, I do not think you called to play catch up with me – who you did not expect in the first place, clearly. I should not be answering this telephone at all. But of course, Tenzin is an insistent one."

"Uh, no, ma'am," Mako said. "Actually, it is Tenzin I wanted to speak with…"

"You are calling at a peculiar hour."

"I know," Mako said quickly. "My apologies," he found himself saying for a third time, "but I believe it's important that I speak to him."

"He is currently busy getting himself prepared to meet with the Council shortly. I will pass on a message if you wish me to."

"Well…it's about Korra," Mako said slowly. "Avatar Korra," he then corrected himself, remembering who he was speaking to.

"Yes?" the woman's voice prompted.

"It might take a moment for me to explain the situation to you," Mako said with an apprehensive tone. "I don't want to waste your time, ma'am."

"Son, for whatever reason, you are in possession of a Councilman's home number and you sound positively fit to burst with what you wanted to tell him. I have worked with you both officially and off the books. I know your character well enough and you have a good head on your shoulders, though you are a little too severe for your years. I trust, then, that you did not call Tenzin on this fine evening to waste _his_ time."

Mako swallowed. "No, ma'am."

"Then go ahead, and quickly," she added. "I must attend the same meeting Tenzin is preparing for."

"Right," Mako said, speaking as instructed. "Well, there has been a series of murders in the past three weeks – of Water Tribe women," he clarified.

"I am aware of these incidents," the woman spoke then. "How does this relate to Korra?"

"Well…" Mako began, pausing as he pondered over the words he should use, "she has been increasingly frustrated with the pace of the police investigation. I've been trying to reassure and keep her level-headed about it all, but…"

"But?"

Mako was grimacing as he continued. "Tonight, she resolved to take matters into her own hands."

There was a significant pause on the other end of the line. "What has she done?" he was asked eventually.

"She is planning to give Lightning Bolt Zolt his bending back in exchange for information," he said.

The woman's pause was even longer this time, and when she finally spoke her voice was dangerously quiet. "She would not be so foolish."

"I…I don't know what she intends to do afterwards," Mako said, his fingers tightening around the listening device. "I couldn't stop her, ma'am."

The woman's tone was hard and resolute. "I will."

* * *

Takka slowed the vehicle to a crawl before pulling up alongside the kerb. As the Satomobile drew to a stop, a pregnant silence settled upon the boxy carriage. Korra's gaze had been pointed downwards for the duration of the journey, her hands lying flat and still in her lap, but she lifted it now. She turned her eyes and looked out the window to the buildings lined up on the opposite side of the street.

"This is it," she said. It was not a question.

"Yes," Takka replied. He was no longer calling her 'ma'am'; she had always known that he used it simply to tease her. But now, the time for teasing was passed.

Korra pushed open the door, hearing Takka do the same in her wake a moment later. He came to stand with her, placing himself just behind her shoulder as she faced the street. She turned to him, realising for the first time that they were of the same height. The bright blue of their eyes met, hers resolute, Takka's steady.

"Thank you," she said to him.

The man nodded his head in understanding. "Be careful, Korra."

She turned away and a gust of wind lifted her hair, causing it to dance before her gaze and brush along her cheeks. She lifted her hands to the back of her head and pulled her hair into her customary high ponytail. When she was finished, she lowered her hands. She was ready. Her eyes were focused, her shoulders loose and her body light. Her mind, for the first time in a long time, was clear. She knew what she had to do. Korra took her first step forward.

When she crossed the street, she came to stand in front of what she knew to be a saloon, and a rather unremarkable one when one judged the façade that it presented to wandering eyes. However, courtesy of Zolt, Korra knew the secrets the place had to hide.

When she stepped inside, she came upon a small, dingy and poorly lit establishment, the most prominent source of light aside from the pair of dim bulbs hanging from the ceiling a jukebox tucked away in the corner of the room. A grey haze hung in the upper portions of the room, cigarettes held between lips or a pair of fingers trailing smoke into the air. Small circular tables were scattered haphazardly around the place, hosting two or three chairs and for the most part littered with empty bottles. In one case, a man slung across the table's surface, gripped in a drunken stupor. The smell of cheap alcohol was heavy upon the air, intermingling with a decidedly male musk. Korra was out of place the moment she stepped through the door.

Eyes turned to her as she stood at the saloon's entrance, casting her own gaze from wall to wall. She found what she sought quickly enough; a door at the left hand side of the bar streaked by greasy fingertips. The silence that had fallen upon the room was unnatural, and an instinctual sense of caution began to hum within her. The eyes that were fastened themselves upon her were small and dark, intent where there should have been only passing curiosity. Zolt had told her that some of his men were assigned to Li Hong to serve as both protection and deterrents for unwanted attention, and that it was more than likely that he was paying for their exclusive loyalty when she told him to call them off. She saw recognition in their eyes as she met their gazes, but she was not worried. She had not been planning to sneak her way in in the first place.

Korra moved forward with a purposeful stride, keeping her eyes fixed ahead of her. A man sitting at the end of the bar with his back to the door she was making for stood to his feet and turned his body to obstruct her path. He folded his arms across his chest as she came to a stop before him.

"Looks like you're in the wrong part of town, lass," the man suggested.

"Let's not play any games," Korra said. "My patience has run thin tonight. You know who I am."

"Avatar," hissed a voice away to her right hand side. She flicked a glance in that direction, seeing another man rising from his stool in front of the bar and retrieving his fedora from the counter in the process.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," Korra told the man in front of her. "Let me through."

The man smirked, lifting his gaze from her for a brief moment to look over her shoulder. She heard the feet of a chair scrape sharply across the floor as yet another man stood to his feet. Her attuned senses allowed her to feel the depression of the floorboards and give her a general impression of where the men at her back and to her side where standing, though if she were bare foot she could have judged it more accurately. She concentrated as they both began to move towards her.

"You're in over your head," the first man said to her, his mouth curving into an arrogant sneer as he unfolded his arms.

"Hard way it is, then."

At long last, Korra unlocked the furnace of her heart and into her body poured molten fire, surging through her being until it reached her core. Something rose up within her. It was more than the desire to win, more than the instinctual drive to survive. It was dark and dangerous; a primal force that reared its ugly head. These men were standing in her way, and she would make them hurt for daring to do so.

Korra moved as the man reached out to grab her by the front of her coat. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips pressed thin as she intercepted his outstretched limb. She caught his wrist in the grip of her left hand as she slid her foot forward and shifted her weight, pivoting swiftly in a blur of motion and ducking beneath the man's arm. The movement brought her around to his back, the man's arm twisted hard against the direction of the joint.

A ball of fire lanced through the air, launched by the man who had initially been standing behind her. She ducked behind the man in her grip, who yelped as the fireball barely missed grazing his cheek. She was then able to identify the earthbender amongst this particular trio when the man with the fedora pressed haphazardly to his head lowered his weight and she swiftly recognised his wide, solid stance.

Korra felt the floorboards begin to rumble beneath her. She shoved the man in her grip towards the earthbender, moving forwards in his wake as he stumbled straight into his partner, knocking his fedora askew. The firebender closed in on her, swinging a naked fist in a wild but powerful strike.

Korra was strong enough to bear the brunt of the blow if she chose to physically block it, but despite her four year absence from the playfield, the philosophies of the Pro-Bender that Mako had all but drilled into her head after weeks of training held true. Her energy and strength were seemingly limitless, but yet still she conserved them, ducking beneath the punch. The sleeve of the man's jacket grazed the top of her head. She retaliated in the next moment, rising with explosive force and a snarl twisting her lips. She drove her right elbow straight into the firebender's jaw.

Korra was turning even as her strike blew away the man's sense of reality and sent him crashing into a wayward table, glass bottles and the table itself shattering beneath his limp weight. The remaining two men had barely gathered themselves before Korra was upon them.

The earthbender was stocky, hunching his shoulders and raising his arms in the fashion of a boxer. The waterbender – by process of elimination – had reached across to the bar and pulled an open bottle from the surprised grip of another man. In such close quarters, it didn't occur to him to attempt to bend the liquid within. Instead, he swung the bottle straight for the side of Korra's head.

Seeing the motion, she raised her arm to shield herself. The bottle cracked against her wrist and her balance was unsettled for a moment as she hissed. The earthbender came at her with a straight punch, one she was able to slip by, driving her fist into the man's stomach. She turned her body into the strike, and despite the restricted room she was able to move within the power with which she delivered the blow was unmistakeable. The man gasped as the air was driven from his body, folding momentarily and staggering backwards. Korra turned to the waterbender as he drew back his arm for another swing.

She was more prepared this time, impeding his arm by sweeping her forearm up into his. The bottle was knocked from his grip by the jarring impact, clattering to the ground. The man reached forwards then and this time did manage to grab hold of her. His attempt to overpower her was quickly thwarted by her knee rising up into his gut. Once. Twice. After the third knee, accompanied by a growl pushed out from behind Korra's clenched teeth, the man folded in the likeness of his partner. She splayed him out on the ground with a heavy double-fisted blow between his shoulders.

The earthbender was upon her then, promising vengeance. This time, Mako's Pro-Bending principles were ignored. She met the man head-on, catching his wrist just as his fist sank into her stomach. It was a strong blow, and Korra could not deny that it sent pain lancing through her body. The man had the typically thick arms and wide shoulders of an earthbender, but she had endured harder strikes during her days of earthbending training. Her body was more than conditioned to suffer this and push past the pain in the next breath.

Korra hooked her foot behind the man's heel and threw her weight into him, using his body as a cushion as they fell to the ground. She straddled him before he knew what was happening, sitting above his hips. The man's arms flailed as she began to rain down her punches, grabbing desperately at her coat and attempting to push her away as he tried to shield his face. But Korra would not be denied. She snarled as her fist surged through his feeble guard and struck his jaw. The man fell limp beneath her, blood upon his lip as his mouth lolled upon in unconsciousness. Korra stood to her feet. She breathed hard, but not in exertion.

Adrenaline was pumping through her body, electrifying her skin. After the long years of restraining herself, the giving way to the anger that had become pent-up within her like a slowly boiling kettle induced a keen sense of freedom and purpose within her. The widened eyes of the remaining men in the room were fixed upon her, all movement ceased in the wake of their shock. The bartender was as of yet unaware that the mug he held beneath a tap was spilling brown liquid onto the floor around his feet. The waterbender she had slammed to the ground groaned and stirred feebly as she stepped over him. Her fingers moved to the buttons of her coat, roughly pulling on them as she walked towards the previously obstructed door.

"You – you can't go in there," the bartender said, suddenly finding his voice, weak though it was. The look she gave him was scathing.

"And who will stop me?" she said.

There was no reply.

As she looked away, a man at the very end of the bar furthest from her rose quietly to his feet. Pressing a fedora to his head and pulling its brim down to cast a shadow over his eyes, he quietly slipped outside. He quickly made for a telephone booth.

Korra pushed through the door, the tails of her coat sweeping through the air as she vanished into the small space behind it. A pair of doors greeted her, one directly ahead and the other to her left.

She tested first the one in front, its surface similarly stained with greasy finger marks as the one behind her. Her nose wrinkled and mouth twisted in disgust as the strong, distinct aroma of urine wafted across the threshold towards her. She pulled the door shut on the toilet before turning to her left. When she twisted the handle, the door would not budge, its frame rattling when she pushed her shoulder into it. Korra wasted no time in taking a step backwards and lifting her leg into the air. She drove her foot into the door and its frame splintered and broke with a satisfying crunch. She moved forwards into the dim light of a staircase that led down beneath the saloon.

As she took each step down towards the secret place that Zolt had revealed to her, she began to hear voices and the muted hum of music from behind the door that stood at the bottom of the staircase. Shadows clung to the walls to either side of her, curving across the door as she reached for its handle. It was unlocked. She pushed it open.

As the door swung aside, she was treated to a vision of opulence and decadence. The saloon above was merely a shadow compared to what the room before her boasted. A long, decorated bar occupied the far wall, its raised stools occupied by finely dressed men with, for the most part, wine glasses clutched in hand. Upon the arms of several hung scantily clad women, their stomachs and hips and thighs laid bare for the eyes to admire and hands to explore. Along the right hand wall, comfortable booths housed a number of men also in the company of suggestively dressed women. The rich smoke of cigars curled into the air as wire-frame busts pushed the inviting cleavages of the women before the appreciative eyes of their male guests.

Extending down from the ceiling on the left side of the wide room were a pair of gleaming silver poles, set into a rounded platform around which was gathered an avid, hollering audience. The women gyrating slowly upon the poles were topless, lithe and pale bodies swaying to the rhythm of a beat. Paper yuan notes were scattered around their high, thin heels and tucked into the band of their glittering, sequined undergarments. Eager hands groped for them, but the women only danced subtly beyond their reach.

As she stood there, utterly still, a ripple slowly spread across the room. Eyes turned towards her in confusion, several widening in surprise as the light of recognition reached their narrowed gaze. The easy, languid murmur of conversation was soon replaced with surreptitious, uneasy whispering. The eyes of otherwise occupied men were pulled towards her as their neighbours' voices muttered in uncertainty. The gazes of the women leaning heavily against their guests turned to her too, unrecognising and indifferent before they turned back and pulled at the arms and murmured sweetly into the ears of the men whose undivided attention they had previously had. Perhaps they could have eventually regained it if Korra merely continued to stand there, but instead she spoke to the room at large.

"Where is Li Hong?"

The tension simmering in the air sharpened. A man to her right stood to his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets and smiling from beneath the shadowed brim of a fedora.

"Pretty bold of you to come down here, Avatar. Your authority," and at this he gestured nonchalantly, "doesn't extend as far as you think it does."

Korra turned and regarded the man silently. After a long moment, she lifted her hand before her, palm turned towards the ground, and then she slowly rotated her wrist, curling her fingers into a fist. The ground rumbled ominously and behind her in front of the open door she had stepped through a thick sheet of concrete burst through the floor, slamming into the ceiling with a resounding impact.

A stunned silence settled upon the room as the walls trembled, leaving only the tucked away hum of music to permeate the air. Korra shrugged the coat from her shoulders as a number of men rose to their feet around the room, eyes dark and intent. She held the coat out at arms' length to her side before letting it pool to the ground, leaving her in the long-sleeved aqua-blue vest she wore underneath. She turned back to the man, who was no more standing casually but wearing a cold expression as he pulled his hands from his pockets. It was little match for the frostiness of her hard, narrowed gaze.

"No one is leaving until I find Li Hong."

* * *

The chair was comfortable at his back, conforming to his shape as it sank ever so slightly beneath his weight. His right arm lay across the narrow, purposed rest, his hand dangling over the edge in open air and gripping the crystal stalk of the thin, curved wineglass. The rich, red liquid within swayed gently with the rhythm of his breathing. He brought the lip of the glass to his mouth and spilled precious few drops of the premium vintage upon his tongue, savouring the taste. He sighed pleasantly, straightening his arm and holding the glass at a nonchalant slant as he turned his gaze downwards.

She was kneeling between his legs, her dark hair pushed carefully behind an ear as her head bobbed back and forth. Her rhythm was smooth and consistent. The buzz of pleasure was pulsing through him to the tune of her oral strokes. She was practiced, clearly, and well trained. He glanced and checked that her wrists were still crossed at her back, fastened and secured there by his mere word alone. He pushed his thumb slowly over the smooth leather gripped gently in his left hand. The even length wended its way towards her throat, circling once about her pretty little neck. He watched her pleasure him, eyes darkened as he cast his gaze down the bridge of his nose.

"This is your place," he told her quietly, "here on your knees before me. Isn't it?"

She didn't pause, though she flicked her eyes up at him. However, he had asked a question and so wanted an answer. She gave a small start as he tugged lightly on her leash. Her plump lips released him, the action accompanied by a soft, wet pop. She nodded when he tilted his head and arched his brow.

"I want to hear it," he told her.

"This is my place," she answered him.

"Where?"

"On my knees," she said without pause, eyes glittering with hunger.

"And what is your purpose? Your one and only purpose."

"To bring you pleasure, master."

Li Hong smirked. She was trained to answer that way, taught to manufacture that lustful gaze to set racing the hearts and tighten the groins of her customers. This was, after all, a place where all men could satisfy a multitude of needs, discreetly tucked away from the prude, disapproving eye of the populace. This woman would indeed bring him pleasure, but the satisfying of his carnal desire was only the beginning. Even now, as he stroked his thumb along the cold leather of her leash, he envisioned himself doing the same along the warm, dark flesh of her cheek. He could already hear her screams.

She managed to distract his thoughts then by sinking down onto him once more, encapsulating him with moist warmth. He shrugged mentally. He was a man, and his body rejoiced as the woman's talented mouth resumed its work. For a time he heard nothing more than the rhythm to which she worked and the sound of her nasal breathing, but then he turned his head when a peculiar sound reached his ear. It was coming from the door, or rather from the other side of it. Breaking glass and splintering wood; earthy grunts of pain and the fierce shout of a female voice.

A sense of foreboding gradually began to settle upon him and it was not a few moments later that he roughly shoved the whore between his legs away. He pushed himself into his trousers and stood quickly to his feet as the sounds of fighting drew closer. The sense of impending danger birthed flames in the palm of his hand. And then without warning, the door crashed open.

A young woman stood at the threshold, her hands curled into fists, her mouth curled into a furious snarl. When she spoke, she growled and the power in her voice coursed up the length of his spine.

"_You_."

Before all other thoughts could form in his mind, an instinctual force rose up within Li Hong as he registered the look of fury directed at him. The woman he had pushed away gave a shriek and scrambled to press herself against the wall as the flames in his hand grew exponentially, a volatile roar filling the room as sweltering heat pulsed from the fiery source. Li Hong's eyes grew in a maddened expression as he sent the flames rushing towards the woman standing in the doorway.

Korra clapped her hands together just before she was utterly consumed in fire, afterwards pulling them to either side as though she was tearing open a pair of curtains. As she did so, she roared, furious as she exerted her iron will upon the oncoming flames. The billowing fireball was split down the middle, flames curving away from her and licking the walls. She surged forwards in the next breath, clamping her hand over Li Hong's fist as he drew it backwards, attempting to send another blast of fire towards her. His knuckles burned red-hot against her palm as she quelled his flame, her right hand shooting forwards to grasp his neck. The man gave a shout of pain as she twisted his arm in her vice-like grip.

"Murderer," she named him. Her eyes were on fire as her fingers tightened at his throat. "_Murderer!"_

But the man, despite the unrelenting grip she had upon him, did not panic or attempt to fight back. Instead, even while coughing as she deprived him of air, Li Hong smiled.

"Don't you…know who I am?" he wheezed, his strained smile dripping with arrogance. "You can't… touch me…Avatar."

Her eyes flashed, and in the same moment she heard a shout from behind her. Li Hong gasped in pain as she flung him away from her and his back met the wall with a sharp impact.

Korra turned on her heel, facing the triad member who had appeared at the doorway. He was already clutching a bulb of flame between his fingertips, drawing back his arm with a promise upon his lips. She planted her right foot and then snapped up her arm in the motion of an uppercut, driving a rod of concrete through the ground and up into the man's chin. The force of the blow lifted him clean off his feet, snapping his head backwards.

Korra stamped and planted her left foot as the man hit and crumpled against the wall behind him, raising a second sheet of stone up to obstruct the doorway. But she was not through. Her fist punched forwards and twin earthen hooks jutted out from the ground, boring themselves first through the concrete slab and then into the door frame behind it, effectively locking it in place. Only then did she turn back to Li Hong.

He was pulling himself to his feet, his impact with the wall having driven the wind from his lungs when she descended upon him. His laughter only incensed her further as she twisted her hands into the lapels of his jacket.

"What are you going to do, Avatar? Turn me in to the police?" Li Hong said breathlessly as she snarled down at him. "My father _owns_ them. I would walk free before the night is done."

"No," Korra growled, "don't worry about the police. This has nothing to do with them. _I _am going to deal with you."

"Stupid bitch," the man said, lips peeling apart as he grinned. "Didn't you hear me? My father –"

Korra slammed him against the wall, silencing him as he winced in pain. She leaned forward, boring into his eyes with her gaze. "Your father will not save you tonight."

She released him momentarily, throwing her palms to the wall at either side of him. The earth rose to her call, chaining Li Hong in place with thick, unrelenting bonds.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice suddenly tinged with uncertainty as she placed her hands at his forehead and heart. His efforts to turn his face away from her touch were impeded by the thick band of stone curving around his neck and pressing down on his throat.

Korra's eyes were narrowed and cold. "Purging you."

Li Hong's gaze widened. "No!"

But then the room was filled with brilliant white light. Her eyes and fingertips blazed as Li Hong screamed.

Korra had always been giving. She was accustomed to the sensation of a portion of her very essence departing her body, flowing through to those that knelt before her in quiet, desperate hope. However, to take was an entirely different experience.

Li Hong was panicking in her ethereal grip, holding on for all that he was worth to the flames burning at the core of his being. But she was _powerful._ She would not be resisted.

A perverse sense of satisfaction rose up within her as she stretched her hands forth, pushing through the walls that Li Hong threw up desperately in her path as though they were smoke. She would not be stopped. Cold fingers choked the fire within him, smothering the flames into non-existence. Dimly, she was aware of his wounded howl.

And then something dark came to her subconscious call. Thoughts, intentions, memories – all of them surged up before her third eye in a chaotic torrent.

This man – he thought nothing of her people. He considered them lower than the meanest of beasts that walked upon the earth. Within him burned still a sickening pride, a vile sense of superiority that was rooted deep within his being. He did not value the Water Tribe denizens as people, but as objects, existing only to satisfy his pleasures. They had no will of their own, no other purpose but to be subjugated and used as he saw fit.

She watched as he leaned over the first of his victims, the young woman writhing and splitting the night with her anguish and pain as he scorched into her skin the patterns that brought him despicable pleasure to look upon. She looked on as he bullied a man of the Water Tribe who had managed to persevere against the high, sweeping tides of discrimination and work his way into his father's company, making a misery of his days until the man was driven to escape life altogether. She witnessed him sink his fist time and again into the flesh of a woman in the darkness of an alleyway, her only crime that she had begged of him a yuan or two to feed her starving child.

His poisonous spirit was seeping towards her, winding its way through the ethereal pathways of his body towards the place where she had entwined herself with him. She did not realise its presence until an eerie chill began to spread slowly along her forearms, the tips of her fingertips tingling numb. She didn't truly understand it until nausea gripped hard her bowels and at the back of her throat she tasted thick bile. A deafening silence rang in her ears as she ripped her hands away, fleeing from the man.

Korra stumbled backwards, unaware of the shouts coming from behind the thick wall she had bended into place as she threw out her arms wildly to steady herself. She could only stare at Li Hong, her jaw locked tight and her eyes bulging in their sockets. She barely registered the ground rumbling beneath her feet. The silence blocking her ears gradually melted away, and as it did the first thing she registered was a whimper coming from the corner of the room. She turned and there saw a half-naked young woman curled up tightly against the wall, clutching herself as fear pulled her eyes wide. She was Water Tribe.

Korra's mind was blank, empty of all thoughts as a single image dragged itself before her gaze. In that moment, she saw the young woman screaming beneath a fiery touch. Wrath consumed her in the next.

Li Hong, who was slumped against his bonds barely hanging onto consciousness, shrieked an unearthly sound as Korra's hands gripped his face between them. Her fingers pressed into his flesh, nails drawing blood. But his blood did not run its natural course, instead gathering at Korra's fingertips rather than dripping down his cheeks. Her eyes blazed with sulfuric fury. She wanted him to suffer as he made the women he had tortured and killed suffer. The rock wall suddenly blew apart at her back, spewing shattered fragments across the singed, torn carpet. She paid it no mind. All that mattered was this. Korra's fingers pressed ever harder into Li Hong's flesh and he screamed all the more.

And then there were voices, voices that reached out to her. She paid them no mind. But then there were thick coils of cable looping about her wrist, dragging her away from the man in her grip. She started to pay attention. She pulled against the cable, the muscles in her shoulder bunching as she roared her defiance. The man on the other end was pulled off his feet, unable to contest her supernatural strength. Li Hong's voice drowned out the others as she sank her nails into him once more. Then there were more cables. A constricting grip materialised around her torso as her arms were dragged aside once more. This time she turned on them.

Men and women armoured in steel and honed with years of relentless training into the most elite force the city had to offer, balked as the Avatar bellowed her wrath. They had not completely trodden down on their fear even as they moved forward to engage her.

Korra was a raging whirlwind of lethal force. A myriad of cables lashed themselves about her limbs, but time and again she cast them off. Pained grunts punctuated the cacophony as the metalbenders strived tirelessly and almost in vain to subdue her. But then one appeared among them, standing in the doorway with an expression of utter severity carved upon her face. Her eyes were as hard as the precious stone they resembled. Where the men and women who had once called her Chief were hesitant, she was not. Lin Beifong strode forth into battle, the meaning of fear lost to her.

* * *

She told him to go home. When he protested, she ordered him to go home. It had been years since he had last seen her, years since she officially held authority over him, but yet still Mako held too much respect (and a healthy dose of fear) for the woman to do anything but defer to her, if reluctantly. And so after the call had finished, he stepped out of the cramped booth and – after a long moment of deliberation – decided to entrust the situation to Lin's care, slowly making his way back to his apartment. It was along the way that he saw the procession of police cars, illuminating the street with flashing sirens and emitting an unsettling wail that seemed to persist long after they had disappeared around the corner. But Mako didn't let them get that far.

Something ominous stirred within him as he saw them, his eyes growing anxious and his heart thumping against its cage as he stood stock still and watched the boxy vehicles flash by. Whether it was a conscious decision or not, before the last police car had passed him, he was running.

He had no hope of keeping them within his sight the entire time, not with the way the cars were being driven, but he strained his ear and followed in the direction of the loud wailing. Throwing a little guesswork into the equation when the moment demanded it, Mako soon found himself back in Triple Threat territory, pelting down a sparsely lit street towards the column of police cars drawn up on the opposite side of the road. Metalbending officers had already established a line that curved around the haphazardly parked vehicles, cordoning off the area as curious members of the public began to press forwards. Mako was soon among them, but his attempts to push through the throng were all but futile.

The sense of impatience that powerful curiosity inevitably brewed was heavy upon the air as they all waited. Repeatedly, the voices of the officers were raised, urging and then ordering the crowd to step back as they gradually edged forwards. And then suddenly there was an explosion of motion, a multitude of black and grey shapes streaming out from the door of a small building. The shouts of the line of officers fought against the rumble of the crowd's collective voice as they once again began to push forwards. Mako lifted himself onto the balls of his feet and looked through the gaps between swaying heads and jostling bodies.

He saw numerous men and women being led through the doors, far more than it seemed the capacity of the building had been designed for. As they were clutched in the grip of the officers pulling them towards the police cars, the men and women did their best to conceal their identities, lifting painted hands and the lapels of finely tailored jackets in front of their faces as they angled their eyes down to the ground. Mako blinked against the glare of a flash bulb camera held high above the heads of the crowd. It was as he lifted his hand to shield the right side of his face, white spots slowly fading from his vision, that a gap appeared amongst the press of bodies and he saw a shape of dark-grey ringed closely by several masses of steel armour.

He had spent the better part of the night staring at his coat in one form or another, and Mako had a very peculiar sensitivity and sharp eye where his belongings were concerned. Living on the rough streets of the city as a child had cultivated within him a fierce sense of protection for material possessions. As he saw the person stumbling forward in the police officers' grip, his coat draped over their head, his stomach tightened instinctively.

He fought with renewed effort to push through the crowd, knowing not what he would do when he eventually made his way to the front of it. He was never given the chance to find out; a hand gripped his upper arm tightly and pulled him backwards. He turned on the culprit, furious as he tried to pull away. A man of the Water Tribe met his gaze steadily, his grip unrelenting. The man shook his head.

Mako's lips twisted into a snarl. "Who - ?" he began, but then he looked and recognition silenced him. It was Korra's chauffeur.

The man's name escaped Mako, but he was the one who would come to collect Korra in the days before she began staying overnight at his apartment. He always walked her down to the street below to find the man waiting there dutifully in a Satomobile. If he was here now…Mako lifted his eyes and scanned the street, but the multitude of bodies occupied his vision, not to mention that identifying one Satomobile from numerous others was an almost pointless endeavour. Nevertheless, the man's presence here was indicative. When Mako opened his mouth to speak however, the man shook his head sharply, pulling him further away from the crowd.

"Not here," he said simply, and Mako was given little choice but to follow after him.

* * *

Lin strode down the corridor, surrounded once more by the cold, yet familiar metallic walls of the Police Headquarters. The sound of her footsteps carried clear and strong in the narrow, empty space. She had ordered that no one was to set foot in this wing until she instructed otherwise. Only the precious few knew truly her reasoning.

Clutching a manila folder in hand, Lin stopped and turned sharply on her heel before an otherwise indistinct section of wall. To a metalbender however, the wall in front of which she stood was actually a door, and beyond it was a room. She lifted her free hand and manipulated the metal, bending it to her will. An intricate lattice was pulled apart, layer upon layer sliding aside to make room for its neighbour until finally there existed a doorway, presenting to her a room illuminated singly by a flat, circular overhead light. Lin stepped inside.

The cone of pale yellow light encompassed a grey, rectangular table standing in the centre of the room. A young woman occupied a hard-backed chair on its far side. She was slouched in her seat, her forearms resting on the table. Cold steel cuffs bound her wrists to one another. Her eyes were pointed down at her hands, and they remained so as Lin moved towards her. The chilling scrape of a chair's feet upon the floor filled the room as Lin pulled her seat out. The young woman spoke when she dropped the manila folder onto the table between them.

"I want to wash my hands," she said tonelessly.

The ends of her fingers were stained scarlet. Lin said nothing in reply. She took her seat and pulled the folder towards her, flipping it open.

"Destruction of private property," Lin began, lifting a sheet of paper from its brethren and laying it to one side. "Undertaking the enforcement of the law without legal authority," she continued, lifting and moving another. "Resisting arrest. Assaulting a police officer." Lin slapped down the fourth sheet of paper before folding her hands together and looking across the table. "Does all this sound familiar to you?"

The young woman lifted her face, stray locks of hair falling away from her eyes. Her lips were pressed thin.

"But of course, there is one exception," Lin said, reaching towards the folder. She handled the fifth sheet of paper carefully, as though it were fragile enough to crumble beneath her touch. She took it and laid it atop the others. "Attempted murder."

The young woman was silent, but her eyes were as dark as the corners of the interrogation room.

"You know, what you have done tonight brings to mind a certain remembrance," Lin said. "There was once a man who fancied himself judge and jury, who thought that there was nothing at all wrong with his acting outside of the law. He took it upon himself to deem the guilty from the innocent, and to dispense his particular brand of justice."

"Don't," the young woman spoke, her voice quiet. "Don't compare me to him."

But Lin continued, unperturbed. She met the young woman's fierce gaze unflinchingly. "He said it was his right, his unique gift from the very Spirits themselves; a task that he alone had been considered worthy to complete. That was his justification for stripping a person of their bending." Lin leaned forward, eyes narrow. "Does this sound familiar?"

The young woman slammed her fists to the table, lips curling as she shouted. "I am not Amon!"

"Then who are you?" Lin demanded in a voice equally as loud.

"I am the Avatar!"

"And this gives you the freedom to do as you please? To act as you see fit in a plain and utter disregard of the law?"

"I acted because you failed to. I acted because your worthless establishment sat on its hands and did _nothing._"

"No," Lin said, "what you did was call yourself judge and executioner. You took it upon yourself to decide the fate of a man's life as though it were your right."

"It _is_ my right."

Lin moved then, more swiftly than the young woman had ever witnessed a human being do so. The older woman drew back her arm and lashed out, the sharp crack of her hand echoing off the cold walls. The young woman sat there with her face turned aside, perfectly still as fallen strands of hair obscured her eyes.

"Listen carefully to me, Korra," Lin said, her voice low, "I did not come here all the way from Ba Sing Se to witness the beginnings of a raving Avatar. I did not come here expecting to find that the young woman whom I once held in high regard has sunken so low as to consider murder a form of justice."

Slowly, Korra turned back to face her. Her lower lip was split open, the wound glistening scarlet. "You do not know what he did," she said quietly, her eyes shining. "You don't know the pain and suffering he put those women through."

"No," Lin agreed, "I do not. But what you did was despicable." She took another sheet of paper from the folder, this time pushing it across the table and turning it around to face Korra. "He is not dead," Lin told her, "but at this point, it would be a mercy to kill him." She indicated the sheet of paper, "read it." Korra didn't move. "I said _read it_."

Korra took the edge of the piece of paper between her fingertips and lifted it. It was a medical report, a detailed chief healer's summary of Li Hong's present condition. As Korra's eyes drifted from line to line, there were a number of technical terms that escaped her understanding, but the general gist of the report made enough sense to her.

She had not been truly aware of what she was doing, only that she wished to cause Li Hong the same pain that he had inflicted upon others. He burned their skin; she scorched his blood. She had destroyed his body's ability to co-ordinate even the simplest of motor functions, rendering him entirely paralysed, and at the same time his sensory functions all except for his ability to see and feel no longer existed. His body was a mere shell, and he was trapped within it for the rest of his natural life. Korra set the sheet of paper back down on the table.

"So?" Lin said when Korra did not speak. "You have nothing to say for yourself."

Korra remained quiet, but she could not hold the older woman's piercing gaze.

"Did you know who this man was?" Lin said then. Korra nodded mutely, but Lin gave a harsh snort. "You knew his name perhaps, but you did not truly understand who he was. If you did, you would not have acted so foolishly," Lin told her. "His father is Liwei Hong, head of Red Sun Technologies and one of the most powerful men in the city. He has his hands in far too many pockets, and the range of his influence is unsettling. That is to say that you are not beyond his reach – even as the Avatar."

Lin withheld certain information as she said this to Korra, namely that it had very recently come to her attention just how much influence Liwei Hong held over key elements of the city, in particular the Police Force. The Council asked her to return under the guise of wanting her to consult upon the recent murder investigation, but Tenzin revealed to her that she was actually intended to replace Feng as Chief of Police as the Council had lost confidence in his ability. However, he only told her of this because mere hours before she set foot on Air Temple Island, new and disturbing information regarding the nature of Feng's investigation had come to light, revealed by an as of yet anonymous source.

She leaned forward, those thoughts heavy upon her mind as she spoke. "Li Hong was his father's only son and heir to his business. There is much that Liwei did to protect him," Lin said, keeping the specifics that she had only just learned for herself from Korra's ears. She decided that it was better the young woman didn't know, not yet. "He will come for you, do you understand? He will want retribution for what you have done, and by the Spirits he is a man that can make that desire a reality."

Korra's eyes rose and her gaze was defiant. "I will face him," she said. "I will tell him and the entire city of the monster that was his son."

"No, you won't," Lin said, her eyes hard.

"Then what," Korra said, her hands tightening into fists, "his actions will be forgotten and instead _I_ become the criminal?"

"This entire situation is a colossal mess, and all you have managed to do is make it ten times worse," Lin said sharply. "Liwei Hong will drag you into court and –"

"And I will face him," Korra said again.

"This is a fight you will not win, and your failure will be spectacular."

"I will _not_ run," Korra snarled.

"You have no choice," Lin snapped. "I'm removing you from my city."

"_Your_ city?" Korra echoed. "You're not –"

"Republic City's Police Force is the legacy of the Beifongs," Lin interrupted her, "and I am once more to be its Chief. My word is law, and I want you gone. There is no discussion."

Korra only stared as Lin stood to her feet, her chair screeching as it was pushed backwards. She reached forwards and gathered the papers lying upon the table together, returning them neatly to the manila folder. She held it up before Korra's eyes.

"This is the sole copy of the documents recording what you have done tonight," she told the young woman. She flicked the wrist of her right hand and the steel cuffs binding Korra's hands clattered to the tabletop. "Burn it."

Korra blinked as she rubbed her wrists, her eyes moving slowly from the older woman to the folder and back again. And then her gaze narrowed. "_This _is unlawful," she said darkly.

"This is _necessary_," Lin returned. "Look beyond yourself for a moment, young Avatar, difficult though it may be," she said coldly. "Insufferable as you are, the world needs you. You must be free to answer the call of those who are in need, not locked away in a cage."

"A cage would not hold me."

Lin's eyes hardened. "You have much to learn, Korra. It is time that you went out and knew more than just the streets of Republic City, and I am _strongly_ advising you to take this opportunity. Perhaps you will return one day and I will see that you are no longer a child. Now," she said, brandishing the folder in front of Korra, "burn it."

The two women held each other's gaze, unblinking. Korra was the one to break the silence.

"I did what needed to be done," she said. "I'm the Avatar."

"If the Police had not been alerted, or if we arrived but a minute later, you would be nothing more than a murderer. You have not brought peace or justice. You have brought chaos."

Korra's eyes grew hard. For a long moment, she glared up at the older women, but then her gaze slid away. Eventually, she reached out her hand, fire dancing at the tips of her fingers. The folder crumbled to ash upon the cold, grey tabletop.

"I have work to do," Lin said, "and you need to leave. Now."

As the sky began to lighten heralding a new day, Korra was led discreetly from the Police Headquarters while a horde of reporters gathered at its doors. Lin Beifong stepped out to meet them. The thunder of footsteps as microphones were shoved forwards was halted only just by the line of police officers standing below the podium erected at the top of the steps for the occasion. A lone Satomobile with darkened windows departed from the rear bay of the building, seen by no one.

* * *

_"…a general statement regarding the large scale police raid on Everstone Street late last night was provided by Lin Beifong almost an hour ago. However, since then the Police Force has declined to make any further comments. The current Chief of Police Wei Feng has been unavailable to make a statement throughout the morning, though it is rumoured that the unannounced return of Lin Beifong may indicate that the position of Chief is no longer…"_

Mako looked up, distracted from the radio broadcast which had in turn been distracting him from his worrisome thoughts. Pema stood in the doorway, her features drawn tight as she spoke. "She's here." Mako stood to his feet in the next moment, the large, curved brown box and the voice seeping out of its cracks forgotten. He swept from the room, Pema on his heels.

Takka had taken him first to the harbour before instructing him to take a boat to Air Temple Island. The man told him to wait for Korra there when he demanded reasoning. The answer made little sense to him after having seen Korra being led away towards a police car, but Takka urged him to do as he had spoken with a conviction that eventually set his feet into motion.

It had been months since he had last been to the island and seen the airbending family, but they welcomed him regardless as though no time had lapsed since his previous visit. The air was thick with tension however. Tenzin was not present, and Pema seemed distracted, her hands fidgeting when she spoke. She knew more than she would let on, but he could not prise it from her. He kept to the room they provided him, the prospect of sleep the furthest thing from his mind as he paced restlessly.

When he and Pema stepped outside, they found Korra arguing with Tenzin – who appeared to have only just arrived himself. Several acolytes were already moving towards the large, hulking form of Oogi, leading the distressed sky bison away from the raised voices of the pair.

"…I don't care," Korra was saying. "You have taught me nothing worth making note of in months."

"I am your teacher and mentor and I say that your airbending training is not complete. You will not be leaving until it is."

"I'm going. Beifong's orders."

"Nothing was discussed," Tenzin said angrily. "Lin cannot do this!"

"I guess she can," Korra returned. "I suppose you were the one who brought her back here to take over as Chief. Congratulations, this is the result."

"Lin Beifong does not rule this city," Tenzin said sharply. "You are not leaving on that woman's whim."

"And you are not keeping me here on yours! I'm leaving," Korra said resolutely, already pushing past the man. He caught her arm as she made to walk away from him. "Korra –" he began, but she twisted away. As she turned to face him, her eyes were hard.

"Let go of me," she said roughly.

Pema quickly moved forwards to calm her husband as his expression grew severe, taking hold of his arm and standing in front of him. "Wait," she pleaded as she raised her eyes to meet his. "Just wait."

Mako had already gone off in pursuit of Korra.

She led him towards the women's dormitories and he saw her viciously throw open the doors, the wooden frame rattling in her wake. Acolytes young and old yelped as she stalked down the halls towards her room, both because she pushed roughly past them and he, a male, was in tow. "Korra," he called after her, but she ignored him.

Her stride was long and powerful and he had to jog at one point to keep up with her, especially since he was not treating the acolytes he passed by with the same indifference as she was. When one of the acolytes made a sharp remark about her lack of manners, Korra paused and turned on her heel, glaring hard at the poor woman who had spoken as she backed fearfully into the wall behind her. Mako caught up to them, apologising quickly to the acolyte as he lifted his hand to Korra's shoulder. She shrugged him off without acknowledging him.

"Korra," he said again as she ripped open the door to her room and stepped inside, beginning to positively ransack the place as she tossed a bag onto the bed and began to empty drawers of her belongings, "please talk to me."

She said nothing. He saw her lips curl into a snarl as she threw open a drawer too hard and pulled it right out of its slot, spilling the contents to the floor.

"Korra, what's going on?" he said, moving into the room. "Why are you leaving?"

Again, she said nothing. He moved towards her as she shoved the last of her things into the haphazard jumble that occupied the bag, lightly touching her arm. "Please –"

"Don't touch me," she snapped, flinging his arm aside as she rounded on him. "Don't. Touch me. Don't speak to me. _Leave me alone_."

The ferocity of her tone and the glare she pinned him with made him take a physical step backwards in surprise. "Korra, what –" he began, but she pushed past him as she slung the bag over her shoulder. Mako stumbled and almost lost his footing. He threw his arms out to steady himself and a streak of annoyance flashed through him. He quashed it in the next moment. He didn't fully understand the situation yet, and he knew that to meet Korra's anger with his own would get him nowhere. She stepped through the doorway and he was there a few moments later himself. He opened his mouth to call her name, but another voice beat him to it, this one young and female.

"Korra?"

Her stride slowed, and then stopped. Mako turned to his left and saw Jinora standing there, a notepad clutched in her hands and her hands clutched to her chest. Her soft brown eyes were filled with uncertainty and her gaze never shifted from Korra's back. Korra did not move or speak, as though the young airbender's call had rooted her to the spot and she could do nothing until Jinora released her. Mako prayed that she would not, but even as he whispered silently, the girl's lips parted.

"Korra…" she said again. "Are you…?"

Mako looked and saw Korra's shoulders grow tense, the fingers of her right hand curling in towards her palm. In the end, his silent prayers went unanswered. Korra gave the smallest shake of her head, the long tail of her hair swaying before her feet carried her forwards once more. Mako turned; pain was blossoming in the eyes of the young airbender as Korra walked away without saying a word. He grimaced, knowing not what to say himself except for: "stay here, Jinora.", as he then made to follow after Korra.

He didn't know how it was possible, but she walked even more swiftly this time. The acolytes were quick to press themselves against the walls out of her way as she swept her glare along the corridors. He followed in her wake calling her name, but she would not respond to him. He finally managed to catch up to her as they stepped outside and she was making her way back towards the front of the island's main structure. Mako was hardly aware of Tenzin and Pema's presence as he latched onto Korra's arm with a firm grip and spun her around to face him.

"Korra, what the hell is your problem?" he demanded, holding onto her as she tried to pull away. "Why are you treating everyone like we're your enemy?"

"Go back, Mako," she told him, still pulling at his grip. "Go back to your damn city. You don't need me anymore. No one needs me."

"What in Spirits' name are you talking about?" he said, the reins held tightly upon his patience swiftly slipping from his grasp. He was beating his fists against the walls of Korra's stubbornness, unable to make sense of her behaviour or anything she was saying to him. "For goodness' _sake_, Korra, I'm just trying to help, but you won't let me!"

"I don't need your help," she said harshly, finally extricating herself from his grip. "I don't need your sympathy. I don't need anything from you."

Mako lifted his hands, giving an empty laugh in disbelief. "So that's it? After all we've been through, after all the years we've shared, you're just going to pack up and leave and I don't even get to know why?"

"Go and ask your damn Chief," she told him, gesturing out towards the bay.

"I'm asking you. I saw them arresting you, Korra," he said quietly, his eyes fixed upon hers. "Why? What did you do?"

It was her turn to laugh, and when she did Mako had never heard such bitterness in her voice. "I did what I had to," she said. "I did it to protect those no one else would. I did it for the good of the people."

"Then why are you leaving?" he demanded.

"Because I have to! If I stay any longer, this city will turn me into something I'm not," she answered. "I'm the Avatar, and I can't be who I'm supposed to be here."

Mako's gaze darkened. "So you're going, just like that," he said. "You're just going to run away."

At his words, Korra's eyes widened. "I am not running," she said, scowling then.

"No, that's exactly what you're doing," he told her. "The media is practically knocking down the Police Headquarters' doors for information. Whatever you did that got you arrested will no doubt come out eventually, but you won't be here when that happens. You're running away before all hell breaks loose, and we'll be the ones having to clean up whatever mess you've left behind," he said, gesturing out towards the city himself.

"Shut up," she told him, eyes dark and narrowed.

"Did you actually go and give Zolt his bending back?" he asked her then.

She spoke from behind clenched teeth. "I did what I had to," she said again.

"Great," Mako said. "Fantastic. All to keep the peace and protect the people, right? Well, guess what, Korra? Returning bending to a man as notorious as Zolt will only create chaos and pain, and no one will thank you for it."

She was snarling at him now. Her face twisted into a dark, ugly expression, anger etched into her skin. But Mako's own anger had risen to claim him, to cut loose his tongue and thoughts.

"Now that Zolt has his bending again, the Police are no doubt going to have to deal with a resurgence in triad activity. He's going to want to assert himself, to show the city and the Red Monsoons and the Agni Kais that he is back in business. The Council," he said, gesturing over her shoulder to the waiting form of Tenzin, "is going to have to cover for you once it gets out to the public that Zolt's bending was restored, because nobody will be dumb enough to not know who gave it back to him. And the one question we'll all be asking? Why; why the hell would you go and do something so _stupid?"_

"But don't worry," he continued. "You go ahead and run, Korra. The rest of us will clean up after you. We'll fix the problems you leave behind, just like we've always done."

In the next second, her fingers were twisted into his coat. Her face was mere moments away from his, lips peeling apart and revealing clenched teeth.

"Don't talk to me about things you don't understand, Mako," she said harshly as her grip tightened. "You don't know _anything_."

He met her gaze steadily. "I know enough," he replied. "I understand well enough to know that everything is always about you. It's always about what _you_ want, and nothing anyone else says or does matters. It's always your way, or not at all. It's been four years – four years, Korra – and you're just as selfish as you were in the beginning."

He thought he saw her tremble. Her eyes clouded, then shone, then dimmed, and then burned. She released him, pushing him roughly away from her. They held each other's gaze for a long and silent moment, and then she was turning away, hoisting her bag back up onto her shoulder.

He watched her go, watched her walk away from him and out of his life. Something screamed at him to chase after her, as he had always done, but he didn't move. There was a fire that consumed him, hot and righteous, but it would not be long before it began to dwindle to mere embers and he felt the chill of emptiness in its place. For now though, he merely watched as she brushed off Pema's gentle hand and ignored her husband's severe ultimatum. He only looked on as she strode down the path that led towards the island's pier where a boat was waiting for her.

He looked down when he felt a hand upon his arm. Jinora stood beside him, her eyes pained and confused.

"Why didn't you go after her?" she asked softly.

Mako looked away. He had no answer for her. The fire was already beginning to die down.


	8. Chapter 8

He was cold and alone, so alone. Where once a bright and warm flame had burned alongside his, there was now only a shadow. He turned his gaze left and right, reaching out as far as his limbs would stretch – but it was too late. She slipped through his fingers like smoke. It was a cruel dream, and he fled from it. Mako slowly opened his eyes, but when he did, he found that the dream was in fact his reality.

As his eyelids parted, a pale amber gaze turned down to the empty space beside him. The early morning sun was filtering through the window, golden beads of light scattered across the sheets that were drawn up over him. But despite them, he was cold. It was a chill that was settled within him, spreading from the seat of his core and dampening even the inherent flames that dwelt there. It seemed to spread through the natural pathways of his body, frosting over the liquid fire that pulsed through his veins and seeping into his very bones. He drew the sheets tighter about himself as he shivered. But the sheets could not warm him; only she could.

She was a flame that seemed to burn even brighter than his own, and the warmth that exuded from her being had soothed him, in waking and in slumber. Whether he was moulding his body to the curve of her back or drawing her into his arms with her brow tucked to his chest, there was a sense of comfort that encompassed him, a sense of peace that enveloped him as he listened to the rhythm of her breathing. He was lulled to sleep by the quiet song of her contended sighs, and he woke to a vision of peaceful beauty. Long, dark hair strewn across the pillow, her lips parted ever so slightly as she softly exhaled, brown skin dappled with sunlight that his fingers could not resist exploring, ghosting along the strong curves of her form until his touch drew her from slumber. And then she would grace him with eyes that sparkled like the ocean, and he would feel whole.

His hand moved, pulled across to the space where she would lie by a desire he couldn't contain. It was cruel that he should know her so completely now that she wasn't here. He could remember so clearly the sound of her voice, the curve of her lips as she smiled, and the feel of her mouth against his. But the remembrance and the reality were worlds apart. Each night without her was fraught with restlessness, each morning that he woke alone quiet, empty and cold. It had been little more than a week, but it felt like an eternity.

He needed her. It was a thought that ran circuits through his head day after day as Time dragged slowly on as though to spite him. And perhaps he deserved it, for when she had needed him all he had done was push her away.

He cursed himself daily for his stupidity and threw his fists against the wall for being so blind. He was supposed to be her anchor against the battering waves that crashed down upon her, the one she could run to when her own strength had seemed to fail. He was her lighthouse, guiding her feet when she could not see the path she was meant to walk. But instead, he had been none of things for her. Instead, he added his voice to the storm that was closing in around her, and he was the one to make her snap. The realisation of the role he had played only served to crush him all the more.

Mako curled his fingers in towards his palm then, his nails dragging along the sheets as his hand became a fist. His jaw tightened at the thought of what he had done. He was a fool, an utter fool. But as his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed, his nails digging into his flesh, he looked up to the desk beside his bed. Jagged shards of glass were scattered over its surface.

He had thrown the jug against the wall the previous night, letting slip the tight reins on his self-control as anger consumed him. Looking at it now, it shamed him to have acted in such a manner, just as it shamed him to know how he had acted towards Korra. The water from the jug had pooled around the box of cigarettes she had left there that night, soaking into its depths. As he contemplated it, he knew that it wasn't the only thing she had left behind.

With a long, deep sigh, Mako sat up, casting aside the sheets. He had spent a week wallowing in regret, dragging himself through each day as he cursed his thoughts but was yet unable to avoid them. He picked up extra hours where he could, simply to avoid having to come back to this cold, empty apartment and having to face the truth of his mistake. But he knew that he could not live like this. The streets had taught him the necessity of moving on. He could perhaps take a good guess as to where Korra might have gone, but he couldn't know for sure. Either way, he could not go to her; he couldn't run to go out and seek her because he was needed here. She had left behind the city and him along with it, and it would do him no good to sit here and lament what he had lost for the all the hours in each day.

He swung his legs out over the edge of the bed and stood to his feet, stifling a yawn by clenching hard his jaw as he moved over to his wardrobe. Her clothes still shared the small space, hanging along the railing next to his. He reached out his hand and lightly stroked his fingers down the sleeve of her coat. As he reached the cuff, he gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. He had spent far too long already standing here and doing just this, thinking wishfully as he unconsciously likened the softness of the fabric to that of her skin. He began to pull her clothes from the wardrobe, folding each article neatly and then setting them atop each other in a pile at the foot of the bed. He would bring them to Air Temple Island. Perhaps Tenzin could get them back to Korra.

As he folded the last article and turned back to regard the contents of the wardrobe, his eyes slid across to the stand next to it. His scarf was looped across it, the frayed ends hanging down towards the ground. He lifted his hands and carefully took it down. His thumbs moved slowly over the soft fabric, the act coaxing forth treasured memories.

He remembered the time he first looped the scarf around her neck, how he had trusted to a girl he hardly knew but felt inexplicably and powerfully drawn to something that he allowed no other besides Bolin to even touch, yet alone wear. He remembered the moments where he would curve the scarf around her nape and gently pulled her forward onto his lips. He remembered the first time she asked him if she could wear it; he laughed and told her she didn't need his permission.

As Mako stroked his thumb along the edge of the scarf, he tried to call forth other memories, earlier times that had been the reason he had looped it so securely about his own neck. It startled him to find that those memories had become faint, so faint that he could barely see them. They hung at the very edges of his vision, slipping away even as he turned to try and find them. The scarf had belonged to his father, but all that he could think of as he looked at it now was Korra. A sense of guilt tried to rise up and claim him, and his gut threatened to twist at the mere thought that he could have forgotten. But swiftly he realised that was not so. His father's memory was not kept within the folds of the scarf, but treasured deep within his heart.

The scarf had served a certain purpose when he and his brother were left to fend for themselves. It kept him sane, kept him grounded and focused. It reminded him of who he was and where he had come from, keeping him from crossing the blurred lines into the true darkness of Republic City. But now, it could serve a different purpose. Now, as he considered what the scarf had become for him, of how he could not look upon it without thinking of her, he knew that his father would be glad for him. He knew that both his parents would be happy and proud that he had found the strength to trust his heart to another. And he knew, most of all, that Korra would understand what the scarf meant to him.

It would be difficult to part with it. He could not remember a day since the deaths of his mother and father that he had not beheld the scarf with his eyes. Even on the days that Korra wore it, she would always return it to him before the night was done. But there were few things that spoke louder than sacrifice. She would hear him Mako knew, and he began to gently fold the old, precious scarf. This was a promise, his supplication to her where he knew not the words he should say or write. She would understand. He loved her, with all that he was and all he would ever be. He prayed that she could forgive him.

* * *

Senna raised a hand to tuck fallen strands of hair behind an ear, lifting her eyes briefly to look across the room. The thick cloth draped across an open space in the rounded wall that she looked to was pulled slightly aside, the small room behind it enveloped in semi-darkness. Yet still, Senna could not stop the small, grateful smile that rose to her lips. It was good to have her daughter home again.

When she finished sweeping clean the main living space, Senna set aside the broom and walked over to her daughter's room. The house was quiet, Tonraq having left several hours earlier to go out and collect driftwood. Their stock of firewood was dwindling low and he would have made the lengthy, laborious journey sooner if it wasn't for the unannounced visitation of their daughter. Senna quietly tugged aside the roughly hewn cloth that served as a rudimentary means of separation between the rooms of the house, her footsteps light as she moved across the threshold. Her heart grew warm as she looked down at Korra's sleeping form.

It had been four years since their daughter was last beneath their roof, and the time that she spent there then was fleeting. Senna had blinked and before she could properly comprehend it Korra was embracing her, waving goodbye to them both from her seat on the sky bison. An expression of something that almost resembled impatience was upon her face as Senna watched her daughter's mentor guide the great beast into the air. Tonraq spent several hours after she had departed reassuring Senna that their daughter was only eager to return to her duties as a fully realised Avatar, not that she did not appreciate or want to spend time with her parents.

When she had turned up on their doorstep three days earlier utterly without warning, Senna stared wide-eyed at Korra as though she were seeing a ghost. Disbelief stole from her the ability to think, speak or breathe until her daughter gave a small smile and spoke, releasing Senna from the spell her sudden presence cast upon her.

_"Hello, Mama…"_

Korra was sleeping peaceably it seemed, though Senna could see a slight frown upon her strong features. Dark furs were spread across the ground beneath the raised platform of her bed, and her form was hidden beneath thick bearskin quilts. She looked however and saw by the outline of her body that Korra had curled up tightly into herself. Worry reached Senna's eyes as she wondered if her daughter, after becoming acclimatized to the warmth of Republic City, was having difficulty readjusting to the ever present arctic chill. Slowly lowering herself to her knees at her side, Senna pressed her hand to Korra's shoulder.

"Korra," she called softly.

She stirred, and when she finally woke her transition from slumber to wakefulness was almost silent. It was a strange thing for Senna to see when the Korra she knew always used to wake with a groan and a complaint ready upon her lips. She blinked sleep from her eyes as it tried to glue their lids shut, eventually seeking out and turning an oceanic gaze up towards her mother.

"Mama?" she said.

"Are you cold?" Senna asked quietly, moving her hand to gently trace the shape of her daughter's curled form. "Do you want another quilt?"

Korra shook her head. "I'm fine," she answered.

"Are you sure?"

Korra nodded, but then gave a small frown. Senna heard the rustle of movement beneath the bearskin covers before Korra's naked hand poked out, an extended finger pointing towards the opposite wall. "Could you pass me my mittens?" she asked.

Senna turned her head and found them sitting atop one another near the corner of the small room. She picked them up and passed them to her daughter, smiling as she watched her slip them on.

"You grew a little too used to the warmth and sunshine of the city," Senna said, lightly drumming her fingers against her thighs.

"I guess," Korra returned as she curled her hands into loose fists. "But the cold is in my blood. Give me time and I'll get used it again."

Senna's brow rose fractionally as she heard her daughter speak, for this was the first time since arriving back home that Korra had made any kind of mention as to how long she would be staying, indirectly or otherwise. But before she could question her, she saw Korra's form shift.

"You don't have to get up now," Senna told her, laying a hand at her shoulder as she made to rise. "I'm sorry I woke you. I just wanted to know you were alright."

But Korra shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I wasn't really sleeping anyway. I may as well get up since I'm already awake."

"Are you -?"

"Mama, it's fine," Korra reiterated, pulling herself into a sitting position.

"Alright," Senna said as she lowered her hand. "I'll go and make us something to eat."

Korra nodded, lifting a mitten to her eyes and rubbing vestiges of sleep from them as Senna stood to her feet. "I'll be out in a bit," she said after stifling a yawn. Senna smiled before ducking through the cloth back out into the main living space.

Several minutes later, as Senna tended to the contents of a round, metal pot sitting over an open flame, Korra emerged from her room. Senna turned as she heard the cloth being pushed aside and the rustle of her thick, arctic ensemble.

"Smells familiar," Korra said, apparently leading with her nose as she approached her mother.

"Seal meat," Senna told her as she stirred the thick, rich stew. "I bet you haven't had it for a while."

"I've hardly had meat at all in the last few years," Korra lamented as she lowered herself to the ground opposite her mother. Senna didn't miss her surreptitiously shifting close to take a peek into the pot. "I'm required to adopt as much as possible the lifestyle of an airbender whilst training under Tenzin."

Senna gave a small chuckle. "I remember you complaining about that endlessly in your first few letters. Your father was counting the days before you came back home demanding meat and nothing but."

Korra pouted as she rested her chin on her hands. "It's Papa's fault I crave it in the first place."

"He wanted you to be big and strong," Senna said, smiling softly at the reminiscence. "He started feeding you meat behind my back when you were practically still a baby. I didn't find out until you almost choked on a piece."

"What did you do to him?" Korra asked, sensing more from her mother's tone.

"Oh, well I locked him outside for a day and night."

Korra's smile was crooked. "That's cruel, Mama."

"So he told me," Senna said lightly. "He was sick for a week afterwards. He didn't have his parka on when I kicked him out."

Korra chuckled. "Well, that's a story he's kept to himself. I guess I can see why."

Senna looked up from the stew when Korra lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she yawned wide. There was something different about her. When she left home for the first time all those years ago, she had been a child, but now Senna saw that she had returned as a young woman.

Her hair was tied back in the typical ponytail Senna remembered her favouring, but she no longer kept the smaller tails of hair at the sides of her head. Their absence allowed for one's attention to be drawn to the shape and vibrancy of her eyes, and emphasised the line of her cheekbones. She looked older and more mature for it, particularly as she grew into her beauty. Senna often struggled to envision the future of her daughter, to see her as a woman when she had hardly seen her as a child. So to look upon her now was a gift, one that she would be sure to treasure.

"Tell me about the city," she said then.

"I already have, Mama," Korra replied, her eyes dropping away, "in my letters."

She sent her letters regularly, telling her parents of the life she was living and reassuring them that she was well, but the only words she could use were the simplest. On the infrequent occasions that she had been permitted to leave the compound and spend time at home, she tried to teach them how to read at her mother's request. Senna took more readily to her impromptu lessons than her father, who lacked the patience for written words. Korra herself had been impatient when it came to teaching, but her mother would remind her quietly that not everyone was privileged to the same prestigious education she was granted. Only when she began to send letters home did her mother's words truly humble her. There was much she wanted to say that she knew they simply wouldn't be able to understand.

"I haven't heard your voice in so long," her mother said. "Tell me about it. Tell me about the place men and women fight while a crowd watches and cheers. Tell me about the streets and the people that walk them. Tell me about the boats in the sky."

Korra lifted her eyes. "Airships, Mama," she said softly. "They're called airships."

Senna gave a small, warm smile. "Tell me about them."

And so she did.

Taking a deep breath, Korra began, regaling her mother as she readied their meal. Her eyes glittered with rapt attention, stirring the stew and adding spices and seasoning as Korra took her time explaining all the details she had been unable to in her letters. She told her mother about the fierce competition of the Pro-Bending Arena, of the elegant clothes the men and women wore and the Satomobiles that filled the streets with an earthy rumble. As she spoke and saw the intent with which she listened, Korra knew that her mother was thinking of how few of these moments had been shared between them.

"It's ready?" Korra asked after a while, prompted by her mother tapping the large spoon sharply against the rim of the pot several times.

Senna nodded. "Go and get some bowls," she said. "Do you remember where we keep them?"

"Should do," Korra replied as she stood to her feet.

Senna listened to Korra rummaging around behind her until she returned with a pair of bowls and small wooden spoons. She filled them with the stew as Korra handed each bowl to her, taking a moment to add more of the seal meat to her daughter's portion. Korra smiled when she took her bowl, slipping her left hand out of its mitten to have a better grip on her spoon. Senna chuckled at Korra's hum of appreciation as she began to eat. She joined her after a moment, and a comfortable silence settled around them as the heat of the stew seemed to fill their very bones. Soon, however, Senna looked up at her daughter, regarding her carefully.

Since the day Korra had arrived, Senna could see that all was not quite right. Her gaze was not as bright as Senna remembered, or her smile as free. It felt as though something was lacking from her laughter, and when she spoke she did so quietly. While describing Republic City to her, she painted a wonderful, vivid image with her words, but yet Senna knew something was wrong. There was something in her voice, an edge of resentment that pulled the warmth from her eyes.

"Why did you leave the city?" she asked.

Korra glanced up from her nearly emptied bowl at her mother. "I wanted to visit," she said with a small shrug, "that's all. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"It has," Senna agreed in a soft voice.

Silence followed in the wake of her words, and Korra hoped that her mother's curiosity had been averted for the time being. She brought another spoonful of stew to her mouth, her tongue buzzing pleasantly with the flavour infused into it. Her mother was not finished with her however.

"Is it the boy?" she asked. "Mako?" she said after a moment, pulling his name from her remembrance.

Korra's spoon paused for a moment on the way back to her bowl, and then she shook her head. "No."

"What is it, then?"

"It doesn't matter," Korra said, offering her mother a fleeting smile. It clearly did nothing to assuage her concern.

"Korra," Senna began earnestly, "you know you can tell me anything –"

"It doesn't matter, Mama," Korra said heatedly, her jaw tightening. "Can't I just come home? Do I have to have a reason?"

Senna blinked, and then turned her eyes away from the intensity in her daughter's gaze.

"No," she said quietly. "You don't need a reason."

This time, the silence that settled upon them was thick and tense. Korra broke it after a few moments, her voice preluded by a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to shout. I just…I would rather not talk about it."

"It's alright," her mother said softly, looking down at her bowl. Korra watched her push the contents around, eyes dim. "I wish you could tell me what's bothering you," she continued, "but sometimes…well, perhaps I'm not the best person to talk to."

Korra sighed once more, briefly closing her eyes. "Mama, I would tell you anything. Just…not this. Not right now."

"It's alright," Senna said again. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

Korra looked down at her spoon, unable to hold her mother's gaze. "I know."

"I'm going to go for a walk," she said after a few moments, setting down her bowl as she felt another yawn threatening to spill from her lips. "Some fresh air will wake me up properly."

"Okay," Senna acknowledged as Korra stood to her feet and moved towards the front door. "Since you're out, Katara would like to see you. She asked for you last night, but I told her you were still tired from your journey."

"Alright," Korra replied. She gave pause as she reached for the door handle, eventually turning around to face her mother.

"Thanks," she said, "for…everything."

Senna offered her a warm, loving smile. "You're my daughter," was all she said in reply.

* * *

The soles of Korra's boots crunched into the snow and ice as she approached the igloo, the large structure connected to a smaller cousin by a short section of tunnel. A biting wind nipped at her cheeks as she lifted her eyes to regard the building, the fur-lined edges of her hood flaring outwards. Comparatively smaller igloos stood strong and resilient all around her, and their presence all but emphasised the architectural feat of the one she eventually came to a halt in front of. Several gaps were present towards the apex of the dome's curve, blocks of compacted snow removed for the duration of the day to allow sunlight into the igloo's interior.

Villagers were moving around behind her as she stood still, adults at work with daily duties and children at play with each other. Voices intermingled with one another, often muted by a particularly strong shout of wind. Korra felt her body tilting as the arctic gust buffeted her, the circumstance prompting her to make a decision before she suffered the embarrassment of being knocked entirely off her feet. She moved forward towards the building's entrance, lifting a mitten glittering white with frost to rap the door. She paused and waited after several knocks, hearing voices turning their attention to her presence. It was not long before the door was pulled open, a fellow Water Tribe woman greeting her politely.

"I'm here to see Master Katara," Korra replied to the young woman's query.

"We're in the middle of a lesson at the moment," she began, lifting her hands in an apologetic gesture, but then another voice spoke over her, strong and familiar to Korra's ear.

"There is no need to have a visitor stand outside in the cold, Tamara. Invite them inside, child."

"Forgive me," the young woman said, inclining her head to Korra before stepping aside to allow her to move forward into the igloo's interior.

Warmth was the first thing she registered as she stepped inside, her cheeks and the tip of her nose stinging slightly as the door was pushed closed behind her. The tread of her boots was softened by the thick furs spread across the floor, reaching out across the room towards its walls. Students were gathered in the centre of the room, clothed warmly in a similar fashion to Korra, though they had forgone their mittens to better manipulate the bowls of water standing on raised platforms of snow and ice before them. Once Tamara rejoined them, they numbered seven, five women and two young men. All turned to her as their teacher lifted her head and studied the new arrival.

"Ah," the old woman said as her eyes met Korra's, giving a small nod of her head. "Take a seat," she told her then, indicating an elongated block of hard snow that jutted out from the wall to Korra's left, "we'll be finished shortly."

Korra likened the structure to a bench as she moved towards it, turning and lowering herself onto it before lifting her hands to lower her hood. The eyes of the students upon her were curious as she shook free her ponytail; there was a marked lack of recognition. Villages in the Southern Water Tribe were still small settlements despite the rebuilding effort co-ordinated by their sister tribe, and so the inhabitants were all familiar with each other's faces and names. However, with Korra this was not so. After beginning her training as the Avatar along with her eventual relocation to Republic City, Korra had collectively spent less than a year in the village where she was born since the age of four. So it was that her face was not known to Katara's students, and the old woman had neglected to mention her name.

Several pairs of eyes lingered upon her even after Katara called for her students' attention, particularly those of the two young men. Her physical appeal was not something Korra had appreciated or even given thought to until she had met and eventually settled into a relationship with Mako. She initially laughed off his compliments until as time passed and they grew together, the sincerity of them began to sink in. She could tell herself she was beautiful without fearing that she was being vain. 'Exotic' was a particular attribute Mako often liked to ascribe to her, she remembered with a small smile. She wondered if her anonymity made her seem just that for her present admirers.

She lifted a hand then and directed a small circular gesture at them. The eyebrow of one rose whilst the other tilted his head in confusion. They understood a moment later however when Katara called their names sharply.

Korra shook her head, smirking, and then she lifted her eyes again to watch the remainder of the lesson, leaning back against the wall as she folded her arms. It made sense for Katara to have both left the compound after Korra had taken residence in Republic City, and to have begun passing on her knowledge to future generations. Korra watched and listened as the old woman guided her students through basic principles of healing, instructing them how to lift and turn a thin sheet of water accordingly to be then applied to small, easily remedied injures such as bruises.

Her own training under Katara had moved quickly. At the time, her mentor was insistent on teaching her how to heal before instructing her on how to fight, and Korra was very much eager to get started on the latter. Her theoretical knowledge of healing was advanced, but practically her method was simply too heavy-handed to deal with more severe degrees of injuries.

As Katara had promised, the lesson did not take long before it was drawing to a close, the old woman prescribing tasks to each of her students to be completed before their next session. Afterwards, she dismissed them. Quiet conversation struck up between them as they retrieved mittens and pulled hoods up over their heads. The two young men whose attention she had garnered were flicking glances her way as they moved towards the door, but she kept her eyes firmly fixed on Katara until all of the students had filed out of the room and the door was pulled shut behind them.

The old woman lifted a hand and beckoned to her then as she turned on her heel, her posture slightly bent at the waist. Korra followed her through an open hole in the wall perpendicular to the front door, which led into a short tunnel. This led through into the smaller igloo Korra had seen when she had earlier stood outside the building.

They stepped into a singular room that took on the appearance of a study. Towards the right hand side, Korra saw a collection of yellowing scrolls and old tomes sitting inside a large chest, whose lid was currently propped open. Katara moved towards it and deposited a book she had carried with her from the larger room amongst the others before carefully pressing the lid shut. Towards the far wall was a structure akin to a table, a roughly rectangular sheet of stone propped up on thick, raised blocks of snow. Behind it, a section of the wall jutted outwards once more to serve as a seat. A lamp stood at the corner of the table upon the smoothed, dark grey surface, accompanied by a small pile of parchment paper sitting on top of half of a thick envelope, several quills, and a covered pot of ink.

Katara turned around to face Korra then, and she saw that though age had etched its lines upon her brow and cheek, it could not dull the sharpness of her eyes. Her hair, which was as white as the walls around them, was pulled back into a tight, practical bun at the back of her head, two thin loops extending from it to her short fringe. She was all but wrapped up in a thick parka and the layers that dwelt underneath, and though she did not stand with an upright posture, there was still strength in her limbs.

"Come," the old woman said to her, "let me look at you."

Korra stepped forward after a moment, feeling not so much uncomfortable as a little embarrassed as Katara's silent gaze swept over her. The woman's lips were pressed tightly together as she gave a contemplative hum, lifting thin, cool fingers to Korra's cheek. Katara was almost half a head shorter than Korra, and when the old woman's touch moved to her jaw, she tilted her face slightly, peering directly into her eyes. A sense of awkwardness began to settle upon her as Katara remained unblinking, but Korra did not look away. Eventually, the old woman's hand drifted away from her chin and settled at her shoulder. The thin line of her mouth curved, bestowing upon her a thoughtful expression.

"You have grown, Korra," Katara said. "No more are you a child. And you have changed," she continued, tilting her head. "I can see it in your eyes; you are different now."

Korra, not knowing how to respond, said nothing. Eventually, Katara lowered her hand and stepped backwards. This time, her mouth curved into a smile.

"It's good to see you again," she said with warmth and sincerity.

"And you," Korra returned, offering her own smile. "How have you been?"

"My bones and body complain daily," Katara told her. "When I dream, I can hear the Spirits singing a beautiful song. They tell me I will soon dance with them as I danced when I was but a girl."

Korra paused for a moment. "Usually, people just tend to say 'I'm fine' to that question."

The woman grinned. "The advantage of being old is that I can speak as candidly as I please. And besides, I have never wasted words with you, Korra."

"Or I you," Korra said.

"No," Katara agreed, "most definitely not. But my time is coming," she continued as she turned and walked around the table, "I am not long for this world. I aim to pass on as much of what I have learned over the years before I breathe my last."

"I hope you don't give your students such depressing introductory lessons," Korra said, folding her arms as she favoured the old woman with a slanted smile.

"Why not?" Katara argued as she lowered herself slowly to her seat. "One cold night, all the knowledge I have to give will wink out of existence. Nothing makes them work harder than the fear of that idea."

Korra chuckled. "Perhaps you're taking too much pleasure from being old."

"I will squeeze each day I have left dry, I assure you."

"My mother said you wanted to speak to me," Korra said then, once her laughter had faded.

Katara nodded, making a small beckoning gesture in the next moment which pulled an evenly sized block of compacted snow out of the ground. "Have a seat," she said.

Korra unfolded her arms and took the proffered seat, which put her opposite her old mentor with the table between them. She leaned her forearms against it, her body momentarily forgetting that she was wearing mittens as she, by force of habit, tried to interlace her fingers.

Katara regarded her steadily. "Your return home was unexpected," she said at length.

Korra shrugged. "I just wanted to visit."

The woman was silent for a moment before she reached forward across the table, tugging the envelope Korra had glanced towards earlier out from beneath the parchment. "This is a letter from my son," she told Korra, holding the envelope out to her. "It arrived yesterday."

Korra kept her expression plain. "What does it say?"

"Read it," Katara offered, but Korra shook her head.

"I'm not in the reading mood," she said.

Katara retracted her hand, tapping the edge of the envelope against the table as she looked at Korra. "The gist of it is that Tenzin will be arriving here tomorrow. He has requested a meeting with the White Lotus regarding your airbending training, and wishes for you to be present."

Korra glanced down at her hands, focusing on keeping them loose and not curled into fists. "Is that so," she said tonelessly.

"Tenzin is notably vague in his writing," Katara continued, "but I am getting the impression that you and he did not part on agreeable terms."

"I suppose not."

"He also seems to think that you were forced to leave the city by Lin Beifong."

A shadow of emotion rose to Korra's face before she schooled her expression. "I left by my own accord."

"What required you to leave in the first place?" Katara said, setting down the envelope as she spoke and holding Korra's eyes.

"It doesn't matter."

The old women leaned forward, her turquoise gaze piercing. "My son seems to think differently. Allow me to make the assumption that you left before you completed your airbending training; that's a little strange, isn't it? You were so eager to learn the art four years ago. I watched and trained you myself, and not once did you fail to endure in mastering each element. What is different this time? What did Tenzin do?" Katara asked.

"Nothing," Korra said. "He did nothing."

"Then, what did you do that made Lin chase you out of Republic City?"

Korra's jaw tightened before she spoke. "What was needed," she replied.

"What –" Katara began quietly, but Korra stood to her feet before she could ask her question. She turned away from the old woman, and as she stood with her back to Katara an expectant silence stretched between them.

"You wouldn't like it," Korra said eventually, looking down at her hands. She could remember the thrum of power surging through her fingertips, hearing once more the man's inhuman shriek as she churned his blood into a chaotic torrent. She remembered Lin's cold, sharp judgement of her. "You would hate me for it."

"I would not hate you, Korra," Katara said.

"That's because you don't know what I did. I acted because no one else would," she said as she dropped her hands and turned around to face Katara once more. "That's all that matters."

"You did your duty as the Avatar," Katara said after a long moment, and with a tone that almost seemed to suggest the words were familiar to her. Korra swallowed and then nodded resolutely. Katara gave a weary sigh.

"I have heard these words before," she told Korra. "I have seen the expression you now wear upon my late husband's face, and I have had to endure his silences. Sometimes I managed to work past the walls he put up around himself, but more often than not he wouldn't tell me of the things he was forced to do, or of the things he had witnessed. The secrets he would tell to no one changed him in the end, Korra. Make no mistake, I loved him all the way to his last breath, but the sense of freedom and vigour that defined him was all but gone. His eyes were haunted and his words bitter."

"I do not want you to fall into the same trap that Aang did," Katara continued, her eyes filled sadness as she spoke. "You are a passionate and vibrant young woman, and I would not see you turn cold with dark thoughts as he did. You must speak to _someone_, Korra," the old woman said earnestly, her gaze pleading. "I watched the man I loved more than anything else in this world succumb to the poison of the secrets he kept to himself. There are some burdens we are not meant to carry by our own strength. Please, Korra. There must be someone you can confide in."

Was there? Right now, Korra didn't know. But Katara's eyes were fastened upon her, and the last thing Korra wanted to do in the face of the woman's confession and heartfelt plea was argue with her. She inclined her head respectfully to her old mentor instead.

"Thank you for your advice," she said.

Her voice felt wooden and strange to her own ear. As she lifted her eyes, she saw Katara regarding her with her mouth once more a tight line and her gaze searching. Korra wanted to leave before Katara found something she knew she would not like. She bowed her head once more and excused herself.

"Do not forget this," Katara said as Korra turned away, her voice quiet. "It is the woman who stands before me now that is loved and cherished, not your broken shadow."

Korra ducked her head awkwardly in the wake of the woman's words, for there was such strength and meaning embedded within them. She could hear the years in the Katara's voice, the fatigue and weariness that plagued her. She could hear the grievance of the old woman's heart, the pain that she had suffered for the sake of love. But she heard also a sincere wish, a determination that she would not see Korra become what her predecessor had in his later years.

"I'll remember," she promised her old mentor.

Korra stepped out of the room and into the cool, dark tunnel that separated Katara's study from the main building, lifting her hood over her head in preparation to return to the outside world. She re-entered the first room, walking past the bowls still sitting atop their pedestals and approaching the front door. She paused as she grasped the handle, eyes upon it but unfocused. There was no one left for her to talk to, no one who could accept her thoughts and reasons. They would all judge her, and harshly. No one would understand.

Eventually, Korra pulled open the door and stepped outside. She let her feet lead her where they would.

* * *

She stood at the cliff's edge, and there was not a sound but for the crashing of the waves against the rocks far below her. If she were to take a single step, she would fall and the sea would embrace her, but such thoughts were far from her mind this time.

Korra looked out over the ocean towards the horizon, a band of gold stretched across the sea and dotted with wisps of grey cloud. The sky was slowly giving up the vibrancy of day, a vast plain of vivid azure gradually fading as the sun dimmed. Her arms were folded loosely, and her eyes contemplative as she listened to the push and pull of the water below. Her feet were solidly planted, and she was not fearful. She merely stood and gazed at the edge of the world itself, calm and quiet as the incessant chatter of her thoughts became less than a whisper. Without looking, she knew that she was not alone.

"Now you come," she said, her eyes growing hard. "I called to you so many times, for so long. I asked you for help. I asked you to guide me when I didn't know what to do. And you ignored me."

She turned and there saw the man standing away to her left, dressed in the traditional attire of the airbender. His gaze was turned towards her, and the blue of his tattooed arrow was stark upon his shaven head. The last time she had seen him, her heart was filled with joy indescribable and a desperate hope, but now she only felt a growing resentment as he regarded her with saddened eyes, his face drawn.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "Why have you come now when I don't need you?"

"I am here because you called me," Aang replied quietly.

"I don't need you," Korra repeated, her jaw tight.

Aang only lifted his arms in an open gesture.

"I suppose I have disappointed you," Korra said bitterly. "I guess I have done your great legacy a disservice."

"You haven't," the man said, but Korra only arched her brow in disbelief.

"I went against your ideals. Unless you abandoned them yourself, I don't think you agree with what I did."

"While I can't support your method, I can support your motive," Aang said.

"Li Hong needed to be stopped," she said, and Korra continued on when her predecessor nodded. "Did you see what I saw in him, what I felt rooted deep within him?"

"Yes."

"Then you know that removing his bending wasn't enough. He would have found ways to continue abusing, torturing and killing innocent women. I had…" Korra paused as the words stuck in her throat, but resolutely she pushed them out. "I had to do what was necessary to make sure he couldn't do so again."

Aang shook his head. "There is always another answer besides killing. From the smallest of us to the greatest, Avatar or no, the authority to decide between the life and death of another is not ours."

"You are wrong."

Korra turned her head, for it was not she who had spoken. Away to her right and standing opposite Aang was a woman, her stature upright and rigid. Korra looked upon her with awe. Mako was almost a head taller than she was, but he would only have come up to the shoulder of this woman. Her face was long and severe, painted stark white with lips as red as plums. A golden decorative headpiece adorned her, shaped into the signature fashion of a fan, two of which she clutched eternally in her hands. She exuded authority, her eyes hard as she regarded Aang.

"The Avatar has such a power," Kyoshi told him. "Only through true justice does one bring about peace, and in the name of justice one must do what is necessary."

The woman turned to Korra then, and for a moment she had to suppress the instinctive urge to step backwards under the force of her gaze. Kyoshi commanded her respect in an instant, and Korra felt her mouth grow dry as she forced herself to meet the woman's eyes. Kyoshi did not speak immediately, her gaze searching Korra more thoroughly than any other person she had known up until that moment. This woman dealt only in the language of strength and power, and Korra knew that if she balked and looked away, she would never again get the chance to prove herself worthy in Kyoshi's eyes. Eventually, the piercing force of the woman's gaze subsided. She gave Korra the merest nod.

"If one must take a life in the name of justice, then let it be so," she said. "As the Avatar, this is an authority one must be prepared to wield."

"Understand, Kyoshi, that as times change so too does the perception of justice. What passed as acceptable in your day or mine may not in the time of those who come after us."

Korra turned once more, this time looking directly ahead of her. Opposite her was a man of the Fire Nation, hands clasped behind his back and standing strong and tall despite his age. His beard and hair were as white as the snow upon which they all stood.

"We are not constrained by what is deemed acceptable," Kyoshi said, turning to Roku. "We are to do what is needed."

"To do what is needed does not require cold, merciless justice," Aang spoke. "Violence in its name will not always beget peace."

"What have you to say, Korra?" Roku said, turning gentle eyes upon her. "It is you who has summoned us here."

In truth, she felt almost overwhelmed. She was standing in the presence of three of the most remarkable people to have ever lived, each of them bearing a legacy that was written into the pages of history. She was called a fully realised Avatar once she could at last bend the four elements, but it was these individuals who stood before her now who were Avatars in truth. But she did not denounce herself. She had earned Kyoshi's approval; Roku acknowledged that it was only through her that they were all able to stand here in the first place, and Aang agreed with her that action had been required. She was worthy to stand among them, and so she lifted her chin and stood tall as she spoke.

"I don't like what I did," she said. "I didn't enjoy it. But I saw the heart of that man. He took pleasure from the pain and suffering of others, and bending was only a means to an end for him."

Korra gave pause then, and she turned her gaze first to Aang and then across to Kyoshi. Both were watching her intently. Finally, she turned back to Roku.

"He had to be stopped," she said. "I did it for the safety and protection of those who couldn't protect themselves." She lowered her eyes then and gave a bitter laugh. "But in the end, all I have earned is contempt."

Only the wind murmured in the wake of her words, silence overtaking them all as Korra looked to the ground. When a voice was lifted to break it, she turned towards its owner.

"Do you regret what you did?" Aang asked her.

Slowly, Korra shook her head. "No. Perhaps it wasn't right...but it was necessary. I believe I did my duty as the Avatar."

Aang nodded, though his expression was grave. "It is better to act than to hesitate. This is something we have each learned."

"Had I acted sooner and confronted Chin the Conqueror, I would not have had to tear families and friends apart in order to protect the people of my land," Kyoshi said.

"Had I been decisive," Roku said, "I would have dealt with Sozin and put an end to the Hundred Year War before it could even begin."

"Had I embraced my destiny instead of running from it, perhaps I could have prevented the genocide of my people," Aang spoke solemnly.

Korra unfolded her arms and looked down at her hands, her brow furrowed. "I think I may have caused more problems by acting than if I had not."

"The Avatar is gifted with power, but one cannot control the flow of every tide within this world," Kyoshi told her. "We cannot always see how our actions will affect the future. We cannot know how the things we have done today will influence the tidings of tomorrow."

"One must live and act in the now," Roku said, "because that is the time into which we are called. The cycle of the Avatar is not a thing of chance, nor the moment of one's birth incidental."

Korra turned after a moment to her predecessor. "I have always been told that I have to uphold your legacy. Your legacy is Republic City, and I have only helped make things worse there."

"The vision I had for Republic City fades daily; it is no longer the place I wanted it to be. But that is not your doing," Aang said. "You are born into a purpose, but it is a purpose you must forge for yourself and embrace."

She turned then to Kyoshi. "I don't know what I should do," she said eventually.

"I do not believe in coincidence," the woman told her. "There are moments we must face so that our eyes can be opened. Once we have seen, it is our choice alone to decide whether we will act."

"We must depart now," Roku spoke then.

Korra took a deep breath, and then nodded. She turned her gaze to each of them, inclining her head respectfully. They each returned the gesture. Finally, her eyes settled upon her predecessor.

"Do not doubt yourself, as I once did," he said.

Aang lifted his right arm and brought his hand across his chest to sit above his heart. A soft pearlescent glow radiated from his eyes, the arrow upon his head gleaming in kind. "Here lies your strength."

She turned to Roku, whose gaze shone white and whose finger rested upon the centre of his brow. "Here lies your wisdom," he said.

The eyes of Kyoshi blazed as she lifted the long stalk of a closed golden fan and rested it upon the edge of her lower lip. "Here lies your authority."

And then as one, they faded. The phosphorous glow of Korra's own eyes dimmed along with them.

As her spiritual sight diminished and her natural one returned, she saw that the sky above had darkened to night. She turned around carefully, remembering the ocean at her back. She stood there for only a few moments more, silently looking out towards the edge of the world. Eventually, she turned on her heel and headed for home.


	9. Chapter 9

The colder the air grew, the closer Jinora knew they were to their destination. At the same time, she became increasingly glad for the fur-lined, navy blue parka that she was thoroughly wrapped up in. Further up her father was dressed in a similar fashion. Their vibrant traditional attire was swallowed whole by the thick garments necessary for dwelling in the frozen lands of the South Pole. Unlike her however, her father refused to drape the heavy hood of the parka over his head, baring his arrow to the sharp, biting chill of the air. These clothes were gifts from her grandmother, Katara supplying their whole family with similar garments for their southern bound trips. On this occasion however, her brothers, sister and mother had remained at home, and her father would have likely left her behind too were it not for the polar bear dog behind her.

Jinora wrapped her arms around herself as she pressed her back into Naga's flank. She was at present tethered in place to the back of Oogi, her father's sky bison. Thick ropes looped over Naga and then wrapped around the body of Oogi as she lay with her head atop her paws, securing her in place. The polar bear dog whined intermittently, her noise of complaint soft. She had whined much louder when they had initially took flight, and were it not for Jinora's ability to soothe her Naga would have likely torn out of her tethers in distress. It was not the first time in the past week that Jinora had needed to play that role. The polar bear dog had been filling the island with a distraught chorus for the past several days.

"It's alright, girl," Jinora murmured, her voice almost plucked away by the rushing wind. She tilted her head and nuzzled into Naga. "We'll be there soon."

Jinora's eyes dipped as she hugged herself, remembering the look on Korra's face before she turned for the last time and walked away from them all. It had been impossible for her to obey Mako's instruction and stay put. She followed close behind him as he tore after Korra, ever fearful with each step she took. It was a fear that made her forget the pain of the one she proudly called her sister refusing to speak a word to her. To see it realised only made her heart hurt all the more.

"We're nearly there!"

Jinora looked up at her father's call, Tenzin shouting back over his shoulder as he clutched Oogi's thick reins in hand. Jinora nodded and then extended her limb, turning to Naga and placating her with a thorough scratch behind the ears as she whined once more. "We're close now," she told the polar bear dog. "You'll see her soon enough."

Her voice trailed away as she spoke; in truth, she was nervous. It was such an odd thing to feel when she considered what, or rather who, was the cause of it. Rarely had she ever been nervous around Korra, unless it was to share with her a new idea for a story. Korra could be somewhat blunt at times, but still Jinora appreciated her honesty. But now, she was nervous about seeing her again.

She remembered all too well the silence that had greeted her words, and Korra's refusal to even look at her. Thereafter, she felt as though she had wronged her adopted sister. She felt as though she was part of the reason Korra had left, and her heart stung as each night she lay restless and on the verge of tears. Her mother was quick to reassure that it wasn't her fault, as was Mako when he had come to drop off Korra's clothes. Small seeds of doubt still existed within her however, and even now she was becoming more anxious as every minute brought her closer to meeting Korra once more.

All too soon did she feel Oogi begin to fly lower, her father guiding the great beast into a spiralling descent. She turned her eyes downwards and saw the wide shape of the White Lotus compound becoming larger and more distinct as they neared it. Curving walls of thick ice stood proudly, ringing the encampment, and at the compound's head stood a tall steel gate. The emblem of a lion turtle was etched into the grey surface, the elegant lines of the design glittering with frost. Two watchtowers stood to either side of the gate and as Oogi conducted another turn through the air, Jinora was able to catch a glimpse of the sentries posted within them. But it was the figures gathered near the gate within the encampment that drew her attention.

Oogi dipped ever lower, his momentum slowing as her father guided him expertly to the frozen ground. The sky bison gave a bellow as he finally planted his feet, tossing his great head after bending his knees to absorb the heavy impact. Almost immediately, a contingent of White Lotus members ran forward. Her father began shouting down instructions as Oogi lowered his hulking form closer to the ground. They would need to disengage Naga's tethers from around his body. As Jinora scratched the whining, shifting polar bear dog behind the ears once more and encouraged patience, she turned her eyes to the three figures that had remained still: the White Lotus leader, who she knew not at all; her grandmother, Katara, and Korra. The latter had her arms folded across her chest, an unreadable expression on her face as the long tail of her hair swayed with the wind. Jinora swallowed.

Naga practically leapt away the moment the ropes slid away from her back, Jinora's cry of caution going unheard and perhaps unnecessary. The polar bear dog landed harmlessly, and Jinora thought she would launch herself towards her master, but instead Naga grew still. It was as though she were waiting, or that she was hesitant. When Jinora lowered herself from Oogi's back, she took a deep breath and held strong to her courage before turning to face the waiting trio. Korra didn't appear to be smiling, but she did not appear angry either as Jinora had sometimes restlessly feared. Instead, she almost seemed to be pained.

"Come on, girl," Jinora encouraged Naga, putting a hand to her flank as they both began to walk forward. Behind her, Tenzin was at last lowering himself down from Oogi's bowed head. Katara appeared to observe both her and Korra carefully for a moment or two before moving away to greet her son. The White Lotus leader followed in her wake.

"Hi," Jinora said quietly as she and Naga drew close.

"Hey," Korra replied after a moment. She appeared to swallow as she turned to Naga. "You brought a friend."

Jinora glanced aside to the polar bear dog, who seemed to be hanging back. "Yeah," she said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

Korra slowly unfolded her arms and lifted a hand towards Naga. "Hey, girl," she began, but Naga stepped away. The sound that came to her throat as she whined seemed accusatory. Korra sighed heavily in its wake. "I knew you would do this," she said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you behind. I was just…I was angry. All I wanted to do was leave."

Naga didn't appear to be appeased, still hanging back when her master stretched out her arm. Jinora couldn't help but feel her mouth begin to curve as she watched the antics of the polar bear dog.

"Come on," Korra said. "I said I'm sorry. What more do you want?"

Naga lifted and turned her head away as Korra's hand drew near.

"Okay, fine. I'll take you seal hunting first chance I get. Deal?"

This apparently drew Naga's attention. She turned her head back towards Korra, though still she hung back. The look in her eye appeared to be questioning.

"Yes, really," her master replied, Korra's mouth momentarily dipping into a frown. "We'll do it."

Naga gave a soft, pleased growl and thereafter leaned into Korra's touch. She hummed pleasantly as her master's fingers reached behind her ear and tended thoroughly to her itch.

"Spirits damn you," Korra cursed, smiling.

Jinora found herself smiling too. "I take it you don't like seal hunting."

Korra looked up from Naga, grimacing slightly. "It's cold, messy business. Naga can be pretty vicious."

"Why do you need to take her? Surely she could find them by herself?"

"She's always insisted I come along," Korra said. "I guess it reminds her of how we first met. She'd gotten herself into a fight with the bull of a herd, and had I not come along there wouldn't be a Naga for you to bring back to me."

"I see," Jinora said, turning and stroking Naga's fur. "She's lucky to have you."

"And I her," Korra said, pausing for a moment after she had spoken. "I need to apologise to you too."

Jinora looked up at Korra, seeing her chew on her lip as her eyes dipped. Something rose up within her as she saw the affliction filling her gaze. It was a realisation; she didn't need to hear Korra's apology.

"It's alright," she told her softly.

Korra frowned. "I shouldn't have treated you like that," she said.

"You were angry," Jinora said. "I know what it's like to be that way, to just want to be left alone and not want to talk to anyone…it doesn't mean that you don't care about them, though. Right?"

Korra sighed and then gave a small smile. "Right."

"Then you don't need to apologise to me," Jinora said. "I know that you care, and I do too."

It warmed her heart to see Korra's smile widen. However, a moment later her smile began to fall. Jinora turned and looked over her shoulder when Korra's gaze shifted.

Her father and grandmother were approaching them, the White Lotus leader at Tenzin's shoulder. Korra lifted her hand away from scratching Naga's snout and folded her arms once more, her expression growing cool. Katara moved across to greet Jinora as the trio neared, drawing her into her arms. She returned the embrace, though her enthusiasm was a little tempered by a sense of nervousness. She very much remembered the mood with which Korra and her father had parted.

"It's good to see you again, little one," her grandmother said warmly.

"You too, Gran-Gran."

Katara slid her arm around Jinora's shoulders, turning to face Korra and her son as she reached out a hand to greet Naga. Jinora looked on as Korra raised her eyes to meet her father's gaze, her lips compressed into a thin line. The White Lotus leader broke the silence that stretched between them, his mouth almost obscured by the thickness of his greying beard.

"You are aware, Korra, of the purpose of Councilman Tenzin's visit?"

Korra didn't acknowledge that the man had spoken. Her eyes were only for Tenzin.

"I thought you told me that you and I were through if I left. That was your ultimatum, wasn't it?"

"I spoke out of turn," Tenzin said after a moment. "All I wanted was for you to stay until I properly understood the situation."

"I see. So now you're here to convince the White Lotus that I ought to be dragged back to Republic City."

"I'm here to discuss the matter of your airbending," he told her.

"Councilman Tenzin is well within his rights as your tutor to call this meeting," the White Lotus Leader said. "And I would very much like to know why you have refused his tutelage."

Korra turned her eyes upon him, unfolding her arms. "Well then, let's get to it."

Jinora watched her turn away then, heading towards the main structure of the compound standing at its far end. Tenzin and the White Lotus Leader followed soon afterwards. Naga made to move passed her and Katara, but the latter pressed her palm to the polar bear dog's snout.

"Ah ah, you can't follow her there, Naga," Katara said not unkindly. Naga gave a loud whine at the denial, but Korra didn't turn to come to her rescue. Katara turned to Jinora. "Can you take her down to the pens? And help them look after Oogi," she said when Jinora nodded, gesturing towards the men and women guiding the sky bison away. "Hopefully this meeting will be over in good time. We won't keep you waiting too long," she finished with a warm smile.

"Alright," Jinora acknowledged. Her father had already informed her that she would not be permitted to sit in on the meeting, but she had brought something to occupy her time without prompt. Katara patted her on the shoulder before moving away. Jinora stepped towards Naga.

"Come on, girl. You can help me put the finishing touch to my story."

* * *

The table around which they were all gathered was long and narrow, the members of the White Lotus Council and Katara sitting on one side of it. The council was numbered four – three men and a woman, and then Katara, who was sitting at the furthest end of the table. Opposite them were seated her son and her once student. Korra and Tenzin were positioned centrally, effectively opposite the White Lotus Leader. Katara found that she preferred the arrangements as such; it allowed her to observe Korra unobtrusively.

"I would like Korra to return to Republic City with me to continue her training," Tenzin was saying. "I do not feel that it is yet complete."

"You are her tutor, and the only airbending master alive," the man to Katara's right spoke. "The priority of the Avatar is to master the four elements. I do not see why this discussion is even required."

"I have learned what I need to from Tenzin," Korra said, her expression plain.

"Clearly you haven't," the Leader intoned, "otherwise we would not be here." The man turned to Tenzin then, and the tone with which he spoke almost suggested that Korra no longer existed in the same room. "What more has she to learn?"

"There are numerous advanced forms which I have not felt Korra is ready to progress onto yet," Tenzin began, but her voice cut through his before he could finish.

"My learning airbending was never about mastering its combat forms. What I needed to learn was the philosophy. What I needed was to be shown how to connect with my spirituality, and that I have done."

Tenzin frowned, turning aside to look at her. "All are a part of the whole, Korra. You cannot claim one aspect as your own and neglect the others."

"That is so," spoke the female councilmember. "This you were told so many years ago when you continuously neglected the spiritual element of being the Avatar."

"Which was why you were all eager for Tenzin to train me in the first place," Korra said. "He trained me as you wished. My spirituality may not be as enlightened as his, but for right now I have more than learned what is necessary for me."

"That is not for you to decide," the woman answered her sharply. "Tenzin?"

Katara watched her son frown contemplatively. Beside him, she could see the frustration beginning to etch itself into Korra's expression. She had never liked the manner in which the White Lotus Council had treated Korra, but they were operating under the authority of her late husband's orders and so she could do little more than be her pillar of strength when Korra so needed it. She had made sure that she was there to remind the blossoming girl that there was more to her life than rigidly upholding her predecessor's legacy.

"Korra's spiritual growth has been remarkable," her son eventually spoke. "She is more in tune with her spirituality than I could have ever hoped to imagine."

"Well, that is a start," the Leader said. "But the fact remains that you have not yet mastered airbending. You are not the Avatar in truth until you have done so."

"It is not up to you to decide who or what I am."

"Oh?" the man said. "You have forgotten who it was that put you into the charge of the White Lotus? Avatar Aang instructed us that we are to protect and train you until you have mastered all four elements. At no point during that time is it up to you to decide whether or not you have sufficiently grasped an element; that responsibility belongs to your tutors, who are chosen and vetted by the White Lotus."

"Each of them may have trained the Avatar, but only I know what it is to be the Avatar," Korra said. "I am not defined by the ability to shoot fire as well as bend water. I was not the Avatar even when I could finally bend all four of the elements. I was not the Avatar for months and even years into Tenzin's training. I became the Avatar only when I understood and accepted the weight of my responsibility."

The young woman paused and turned her eyes upon each of the councilmembers, and not even Katara was allowed to escape her gaze. "I have stood with my predecessors," she said then. "I know what it is to be the Avatar, and don't any of you dare to tell me otherwise. I don't need your recognition."

Katara could see it now: the Korra sitting on the opposite side of the table was not the same young woman she had spoken to the previous day. Confidence had always brimmed in Korra's eyes, but there was more in that oceanic gaze than a certainty in her physical ability. Now there was resolute determination, an assured knowledge in more than just her ability, but in her identity. And there was weight too: the weight of authority, and it was not a few moments after Korra had spoken and in the wake of her words risen to her feet that her authority was tested.

"The Avatar has and always will be defined by their mastery over the four elements," the voice of the White Lotus Leader flared. "Such a feat represents and constitutes balance, the very balance the Avatar is called to uphold. Without complete mastery of the elements, you will never understand your responsibility. You are _not _the Avatar until you have done so, and as such the authority that Avatar Aang bestowed upon us remains in effect. You will resume your training under Tenzin, and if you refuse…there are measures that can be taken to ensure you adhere to your duty."

Katara's eyebrows rose at the man's suggestion, and even as she turned towards him she saw in the corner of her vision the same surprise upon her son's expression. But before either of them could speak, Tenzin to attempt to mediate and Katara to sharply reprimand, Korra spoke.

"I don't believe that Aang was a fool," she began, voice quiet and eyes hard, "but the White Lotus that he knew is not the same one that I know. You kept me locked away from the world for more than a decade. You did not raise nor protect me; you ruled my life. No more. I won't stay another day beneath this roof, and you will never command me again."

She walked back to the table then. Silence had fallen. Korra locked eyes with the man who had all but claimed ownership of her life for thirteen long years.

"Know this: if you touch those who I love in attempt to make me bend to your authority, I will come for you. And if you run from me, I will find you. When I do, I will tear down the entire Order around your head and build it anew. I'm not a naïve little girl any longer," Korra said, "I am the Avatar, and now you will obey me. Am I understood?"

There was a chill that claimed the air, and it was more than just the product of the arctic climate.

"Am. I. Understood?"

She didn't scowl or snarl. She didn't raise her voice or snap in anger. Korra merely spoke, and when she spoke each occupant of the room knew that she would get an answer. Her tone brooked no other but the affirmative. Her eyes permitted the man pinned to his seat beneath her gaze not a single word besides.

"Yes."

Katara could hear the effort it took the man. It was not the answer he wanted to give, but the power of choice had been pulled from his hands. Korra rose to her full height after he had spoken, and then she swept her gaze along the table. Each of them, Katara included, could not hold her eyes for long. She turned away and took her leave. In her wake, the silence she had brought about persisted. Katara waited for the outburst of the White Lotus council, but it didn't come. She turned her eyes to her son and saw that he was already looking in her direction. Between them passed a look that was not quite understanding, but rather agreement.

Korra was different. She had changed and was bringing change along with her. And they would have to accept it.

* * *

She pressed her heels into Naga's flank, urging her on as the wind whipped her hair into a flurry. The grip around her middle was almost painfully tight, Jinora holding onto her almost for fear of her wellbeing. Korra pushed Naga to go faster, and the polar bear dog responded with unbridled enthusiasm. Being kept to her pens for the majority of a week, along with being tied down to the back of a sky bison meant for an urgent need to vent her excess energy. Korra was all but willing to take advantage of it. Naga was a blur of speed upon the frozen plains.

Her eyes intent and the reins firmly grasped in hand, Korra guided Naga on. The White Lotus compound was at her back and forgotten. The sharpness of the wind that rushed by scourged her of the memory. She embraced wholly the visceral sensation of their flight towards her village and home, feeling every turn of Naga's form beneath her. Jinora's shouts of excitement at her back sent a thrill running down her spine. Faster, she urged Naga, faster. Faster, until there was only the roar of the wind in her ear and her thoughts were singly composed of her faith in her first and best friend, that she should not stumble and send them all crashing to the ground.

All too soon did the village come into her sight, and it was reluctantly that she slowed the polar bear dog. As she did, Korra became gradually aware of the ache of her thighs. It had been more than four years since she had ridden Naga so hard. Republic City did not make for the best of playgrounds. She heard the exhilarated breaths of Jinora as the girl's grip loosened around her. Her own heart was pumping as though she had been the one doing the running. Naga walked forwards toward the village with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, panting heavily. Korra leaned down and patted her affectionately.

Their appearance drew the attention of the villagers, namely because it was the second larger than average animal to have graced their eyes in the past hour. Oogi was standing in a gap between Katara's home and several other igloos, his large bulk effectively obstructing the path of several villagers. The sky bison rumbled as he waited dutifully for his master, grumbling at the climate. Tenzin was standing with Katara outside the door of her home, and both turned as Korra and Jinora approached. The latter gave an audible wince as she slid off Naga's back. She grinned up at Korra nevertheless.

"That was amazing," she told her. "Meelo will be so jealous."

Korra's made a small grimace as she dismounted. "I don't think Naga will ever have the patience for your brother," she said, moving to scratch the polar bear dog behind the ear. Naga gave a bark of agreement and Jinora laughed. Her father stepped towards them as they drew near.

"You made it back safely then," he said.

"Yeah," Korra replied, her tone even. She said nothing more. Tenzin gave a quiet sigh and turned to his daughter.

"Jinora, could you give us a moment please?"

The girl nodded, though she glanced between them almost apprehensively. Korra patted Naga's flank. "Go say hello to Oogi, girl." She gave a whine, but Korra's eyes permitted no argument. She followed on in Jinora's wake soon afterwards, and Katara went to keep them company.

"I'm not coming back with you," Korra spoke once they were all out of earshot.

"I'm afraid that I must agree with the White Lotus council, Korra. It is important for you to learn airbending to the degree of mastery."

"I will, someday. But not right now. I need to see the world, Tenzin. I have been constrained to one place for too long."

"There are no shortcuts in this," he replied. "I can't grant you the title of mastery just so that you may begin your world tour sooner."

"If you think this is just about my wanting to get away from you and your lessons, you're wrong," Korra replied tersely. "This is more than just a naïve eagerness to do my duty as the Avatar. There are things that I've seen and heard, things I need to learn how to put right."

Tenzin's brow creased as he frowned. "Korra, Lin informed myself and the Council why it is you left Republic City."

Her jaw tightened as he spoke. She remembered striking the flames to the report Lin had held up in front of her.

"What happened to Li Hong was regrettable."

She had thought that Lin would tell no one, not even the Council. When she ran into Tenzin before leaving the city altogether, it was apparent that he didn't have all the details. If he noticed now the hardening of her expression, he gave no indication of it.

"Energybending is a volatile form of bending," he continued then. "You should not punish yourself for what occurred, Korra. Your experience is only in returning bending to an individual, not taking it."

After a moment, she furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"The injuries Li Hong sustained were an unfortunate result of your inexperience in removing bending," Tenzin said. "It was not malicious or intended on your part."

Korra was silent, taking care to school her expression. She swallowed before she spoke again.

"Is the city aware of what I did?"

"No," Tenzin answered. "It was agreed that for your sake, the details of your altercation with Li Hong would be kept private."

"So his father has said and done nothing at all? Lin was adamant that he would retaliate."

Tenzin glanced away then, and he did not seek to meet her eyes again for a few moments. She didn't know what it meant.

"To say Liwei Hong was furious is an understatement," he spoke, "but his retaliatory hand has been kept at bay. He is a man that is driven by wealth and the power that his name carries, and we threatened to take those things from him."

Korra lifted her brow. "How?"

"The Council has a certain clout," was all Tenzin said in response.

"Then all that Li Hong did will be kept silent as well," she said once it became apparent that Tenzin would say no more. "The murders of those women will be forgotten."

The man shook his shaven head. "Lin is arranging a thorough investigation into it."

"I see. But a culprit will never publicly be brought to justice."

"Perhaps in time," Tenzin said gravely. She did not believe him. "The true intent of the investigation is to find the root of the problem," he continued. "The police raid conducted in the establishment where you found Li Hong exposed some unsettling information."

She would have liked to ask him what that information was, but at that moment Katara appeared at her son's shoulder, glancing towards the sky.

"Forgive me for interrupting," she said, "but if you want to make it back to the city tonight, Tenzin, I'd advise you to leave soon."

Korra looked up herself, seeing the tell-tale dark clouds gathering across the sky. She could feel sharp gusts of wind biting at her cheeks.

"Alright," Tenzin said after a moment of deliberation. "I have some things for you, Korra," he told her. "Mako asked that I get them back to you."

She looked down, her chest tightening. A slight frown shaped her features as Tenzin indicated that she should follow after him. They walked over to Oogi, Jinora standing beside the sky bison's forelegs with a number of paper bundles in her arms.

"Your clothes," Tenzin explained as his daughter transferred the bundles into her hands, the creases in the folded paper already encrusted with frost. It was another thing she belatedly realised she had left behind, but there was a certain poignancy to Mako removing them from the wardrobe they shared to give them back to her. Her chest grew tighter, and she chewed briefly on her lower lip. Her gaze flickered from Tenzin to Jinora, and then to the bundles.

"When did he give them to you?" she asked.

Jinora answered. "He came by early yesterday morning. Really early," she added. "I'd forgotten how much of a morning person he is."

Korra looked up at the young girl. It took a moment for her to speak. "How is he?" she said softly.

Jinora's eyes were sympathetic. "He seemed alright. A little quiet though."

Korra's eyes dipped. She gave a small nod in the next moment before turning to Tenzin.

"Anything else?"

He was frowning as he met her gaze. "I can't force you to return to the city with me. Neither can I remain here to finish your training. What are your intentions, Korra?"

"I don't know," she replied. "But I'll figure it out soon enough."

Her answer did nothing to soften his expression, but he had no choice but to accept it. "I will be keeping in contact with my mother," he told her. "I'm hoping that you will reconsider this. Despite what Lin may think or say, Republic City still needs you."

She only gave a small, polite smile. Tenzin sighed in resignation as he saw it. He settled a hand briefly at her shoulder before turning to embrace Katara. "Come, Jinora," he bid his daughter then, moving to mount Oogi. Jinora stepped towards Korra however, producing a small, leather-bound book. She seemed suddenly quite abashed as she held out her gift, her eyes flitting between the ground and Korra.

"For you," she announced shyly.

"What's this, now?" Korra said, shifting the bundles into the crook of her right arm and taking the book with her left hand.

"Open it," Jinora encouraged.

She deftly flipped it open to the first page. In the centre of the otherwise blank space were written ever so elegantly the first words of the young, tentative author who would eventually blossom into a world renowned name.

_'To my sister. This is for you, and because of you._

Korra stared at those words for almost the fullness of a minute. Carefully, she closed the book. A word of gratitude would be appropriate now, she was sure. However, her throat was strangely stuck. And her eyes were beginning to sting. She let her eyelids fall and for a moment dwelt in the darkness behind them, composing herself. Jinora seemed slightly worried when she opened her eyes again. Korra curved her mouth into the first real smile she had produced in days.

"You finished it."

"I spent the last week rewriting it to give to you," Jinora replied. "Dad actually let me go into the city to choose the kind of book and ink I wanted for myself."

"Must've taken some persuading."

"Some?"

Korra chuckled. "Thank you," she told the girl. "This…it means a lot."

Jinora broke out into a grin. "I hope you enjoy the story."

"I'm certain I will."

They embraced warmly, Jinora scratching Naga's chin one last time, and then Korra moved back to stand alongside Katara as the sky bison bellowed gratefully and lifted itself into the air. She lifted her hand in farewell as Tenzin and her little sister swiftly became an indistinct dot upon the greying sky.

* * *

Katara walked her home afterwards. It wasn't necessary, and though no words were exchanged between them, Korra appreciated the human company. When they reached the igloo, Korra instructed Naga to wait without. It occurred to her that she would need to find a way to accommodate the animal now that her home was no longer the White Lotus compound. Katara spoke briefly with her mother when they stepped inside, and Korra went across to her room. Pushing through the divider, she dropped the paper bundles carefully onto her bed. She stood and regarded them, almost hesitant. But then she shook her head.

"Stop being silly. It's just clothes."

She began to pull open the bundles, filling the room with the sound of tearing paper. Each article that she revealed, she took and set aside at the foot of her bed. She would find a place to put them later. They wouldn't be needed while she was still living in the South Pole. She gave pause when she lifted her coat from the mass of creased brown paper. Something red had fallen to the bed. She looked down and found it, lowering her hand to retrieve it. As she took the scarlet fabric between her fingers, a man stepped through the divider into her room.

"You're back already, little bear."

Korra smiled slowly at the nickname. She glanced up at her father, his tall form seeming to fill the room. He had returned the previous evening, laden with countless bundles of driftwood. "Little bear?" she said. "Maybe a few years ago, Papa."

"Ah, yes," Tonraq said, nodding. "You have grown. No more a little bear."

"A big one," Korra said. "A bear that is always hungry for meat."

Her father smiled. "I fed you well, and now you are big and strong."

Korra lifted and experimentally curled her left arm. "Yeah, I think you're right." She smiled when her father curved his arm around her shoulders. She was taller than her mother, but she still only came up to his chin.

"It's good to have you back," he said, and she felt the bass of his voice as she leaned into his chest. He kissed the top of her head as she stroked her thumb along the fabric of the scarf. "Whenever you went to the compound, we did not see you again for months."

"You won't have to worry about that happening again," Korra said lightly.

Tonraq gave her a soft squeeze. "What is this?" he asked, indicating the scarf in her hands.

She was contemplative for a long moment. "A gift," she decided.

"From someone special?" he said, and she nodded. "But you don't look very happy, little bear."

Korra frowned as she looked down at the scarf. "He shouldn't have sent this to me."

"Why not?"

"It means too much to him. It belonged to his father."

"Yet he gives it to you."

Korra glanced up at her father. Somehow, without prompt, she felt able to tell him what she had not yet confessed to her mother.

"We fought before I left the city…maybe the reason I actually left is because we fought."

He lifted his hand and she allowed him to take the scarf from her. He held it up before their eyes. It was old, bearing signs of wear and tear all along its frayed length. Were she ignorant, she would never have given it a second glance.

"You say this means something for him."

"A lot," Korra replied.

Her father lifted his arm from around her shoulder and turned to face her. He took the scarf and draped it around her neck.

"You are more important to him."

Korra looked down at the red tails as they lay upon her parka. "Papa…"

He stood back then, as though surveying his work. "This is the 'Mako' you always speak of in your letters, isn't it?"

She nodded. Her father frowned slightly.

"I wish that I could have met him more than just once. We would speak man to man, and I would judge whether he truly deserves you."

"Papa," Korra chuckled. He lifted his hand to the scarf, tracing its edge upwards until it met Korra's neck. She leaned into the palm of his hand as he stroked her cheek.

"All these years, I've trusted that he is a good man because you have stayed with him. Now I see for myself that he is indeed worthy of you. He makes a gift of something that was once his father's and trusts it to you."

"I'll look after it," Korra said softly.

"That you must," her father told her, his touch falling away from her cheek. "He has given you his soul."

She looked down to the scarf, scooping the long tails up into her hands. After a moment, she brought the fabric close and inhaled. His scent was distinct, woven into the scarlet threads. She closed her eyes and thought of him.

"How long will you stay?" she was asked once she opened her eyes.

"A bit longer this time I think," she replied eventually.

Tonraq smiled. "Your mother will like that. It was always hardest for her when you were gone."

"You'll get sick of me soon, Papa, don't worry."

Her father barked his laughter. "I see you've brought Naga back with you. We'll have to build her a place to stay."

Korra looped Mako's scarf more securely about her neck, tucking it into her parka. Afterwards, she clapped her hands, rubbing them together in anticipation.

"Let's get to it."

* * *

**A/N: Hey folks. As the story is going to jump ahead a few years from this point onward, I thought I'd use this moment to express my gratitude to you all. So, thanks to those of you who have commented, favourited and followed, and to all the readers in general who see this for sticking around. I hope that this has proven to be an interesting read thus far. **

**I would also like to encourage everyone to review. Feedback is the lifeblood of a writer, and I would very much appreciate your thoughts. You'd be amazed at what a few words of a feedback can do for an author; you guys will spot things we didn't, and even unknowingly provide ideas that can spark the light bulb, so to speak. I hope I don't sound arrogant, but I think this is the best story I've managed to produce so far. But, it isn't perfect. Even if you think this story deserves your praise, I feel there's always something I can improve upon. Feel free to comment and constructively criticize so that I can provide a more well written, engaging read.**

**Lastly, I'd like to share a few things that I've learned while writing this. Perhaps it may come in handy for you too.**

**1) Having a written plan: Until I started this, I wrote all my oneshots and multi-chap fics with the plan in my head. Nothing wrong with that of course, but it can be easy to lose track of certain details. I have a Word document that's currently five pages long with notes and bullet points for each chapter of this story as well as general details about the characters/world/later chapters. It's amazing how much that has helped me keep things structured and coherent. Some of the events you've seen hardly resemble my initial notes for them, but having your ideas in a tangible form is very, very useful.**

**2) Just finished a chapter? Don't post it: At least not immediately. Take a break. Put the document away for a few hours, or better yet leave it overnight. Why? Because when you come back to it, you'll be looking at with fresh eyes, and boy will some things look totally different. I started doing this around Chapter 3, and believe me it works wonders. Now, I know it's difficult to not post a chapter as soon as you're done writing/editing it. You're eager to get it into your readers' hands and hopefully get their thoughts on it. But have you ever done so and then gone back to it a day later and wondered why on earth you wrote this that way, or that this way? Try doing this, at least once. It'll help, trust me. **

**A personal example is the scene between Senna/Korra in Chapter 8. Initially, I concentrated on Senna lamenting her inability to be a proper mother towards Korra, and also lamenting the fact that Katara was more of a mother figure to her daughter than she was. I finished the chapter and was okay with it. I went to bed. The next day I was wondering what dafuq I had written. The focus of the majority of the chapter was on Senna, when it should've been on Korra. So I scrapped that scene, and subsequently every scene afterwards needed to be altered. Was it a royal pain? Of course. But am I glad I did it? You bet.**

**3) Don't be afraid to chop and change: Chop and change all the things if you see the need to. Often, your first take on something won't be the best approach. If you're reading it back to yourself and it just sounds...off, chop and change dat mofo. Even if it just took you all day to write.**

**4) Writing a sex scene: I'm not a stranger to writing sex - just check my profile, but here I'm not referring to lemons. I had to learn how to write sex as though from scratch with this story, specifically the Mako/Korra scene in Chapter 4. Where do you start, and where do you stop? How much detail do you include? What words should you use to describe the act(s)? How many acts should there be? What position? How do the characters interact? How does the scene drive the story? And so on and so forth. I browsed for tips, tricks and examples for a good day or three before I felt confident enough to get started on it. And the end result...well, I think it's not too bad at all.**

**That's all I'll bore you with for now. Don't want an A/N as long as the chapter itself now, do I? I'll warn you all not to expect updates for this too soon, as I want to sit back and collect my thoughts and ideas for where I need to take the story. If you've reached all the way to _this_ point, again thanks for reading. Here's a cookie. Now scram! **

**Till next time ^^**

**EDIT (19.03.13): So, it has occurred to me - particular after further planning - that this story has outgrown its title. '_When To Run_' began as a 200 word drabble, believe it or not, that looked at how Korra would react in the wake of having killed someone in the name of justice. The initial vision for the extended story was that it would conclude with a scene similar to that at the end of chapter 7. To put it simply Korra would outright kill Li Hong, but then regret the decision. She would see the need to 'run', as it were, before the ways/means she had used to get to that point became the norm to her.**

**I've been considering changing to title for a few chapters now; I feel that it could restrict how I write the story in the future. The more I write and plan, the more I see that the overarching theme is that the events the characters face, or are to face present to them questions and problems to which the answers and solutions are never clear cut, and challenge the idea of right and wrong. Hence the new title: '_A World Of Grey_'. I've no idea if this alteration will affect alerts - I'd hope not. I've been hesitant about making this change, but I already feel better having done it.**


	10. Chapter 10

Bolin gave a sigh as he rolled his shoulders, stepping through the doors of the tall building. The crisp evening air greeted him, easing the lines of his frown as it cooled his brow. In his left hand was gripped the handle of a small briefcase. The contents was largely composed of thin sheets of paper, blueprints and designs that required his thorough review and approval. Or disapproval, as the case may be. In fact, he had needed to be more disapproving in the past two months than perhaps his whole life yet. But so it was when one strived for quality as he, and most importantly his employer, did. He lifted a hand to loosen his tie, just a little. He couldn't quite throw all decorum aside just yet, after all.

His gaze rose to the city's skyline as he walked away from the office block at his back, making for the parking lot that clung to its eastern side. Some distance away, black smoke curled lazily and perpetually into the air, evidence of the on-going labour of a workforce left with little other alternative but to help turn the city's wheels and cogs. The thick coils of smoke succumbed to the wind as they rose higher, becoming first wisps of mottled grey against the dimming orange sky and then forgotten amongst the dull, opaque clouds. Those clouds droned through the air, emblazoned with the manner of their ownership as scything propellers enabled their laborious movement.

His jacket felt tight and constricting as he joined the straggle of employees moving along with him towards the parking lot. He would wait until he reached his car before he shed it. A man with what seemed a permanently furrowed brow and a long mouth nodded in his direction when he reached his own vehicle and their eyes met. Bolin smiled politely, and then again when a young woman with her thin brown hair pulled into a short ponytail spoke as he passed by.

"Have a good night!" she bid him heartily. He was just happy she hadn't called him 'Sir'.

Several years of captaincy over the now disbanded Fire Ferrets had certainly helped teach him a thing or two about leadership, but now there was much more at stake than a few thousands yuans of prize money and the ability to boast for a few months about winning a tournament. Now he had to concern himself with the professional reputation of not only himself, but his employer and the name of the company he worked for. The eyes of the city's ardent populace had once been upon him, but back then only fleetingly. Now, a reputation preceded him in an altogether different manner. His name was known by the men and women of the city who held real power and influence in their hands. He considered himself quite lucky that one of those people happened to have been a friend of his.

His jacket, dark and tailored to the broadness of his shoulders, was shrugged off with relief as he reached the Satomobile that belonged to him. Producing the keys, he opened the driver's door and set both the briefcase and the jacket down on the passenger's seat. Getting in himself, he promptly shed his tie completely. It pooled untidily onto his other article of clothing, but it was already forgotten. Bolin leaned back into the comfortable seat, exhaling audibly. He slotted the key into the ignition, but did not yet start the engine. He gave a small smile, reflecting on the fact that he used the normal, generally accepted method of starting up a car simply to keep the minds of others at ease.

He had acquired his license not long before being approached for his present job. Eager to get his own set of wheels and enjoy the freedoms and luxury of being able to drive, he had visited a local car dealer. He distinctly remembered the wiry, enthusiastic salesman's face dropping like a stone when he had, in his excitement, manipulated the engine to start with a mere gesture. He stretched out his hand, turned his wrist through ninety degrees, and the car roared to life. To be sure, the inner workings of an engine were an intricate and complicated affair, but Bolin was uncommon, even amongst the more seasoned of his kind. The laughter that the salesman managed to put out after a few moments of utter silence was very much fraught with nervousness.

Rolling his shoulders once more, he lifted a hand to massage an ache at the back of his neck before moving to start the vehicle. It was a gift from his employer, sleek and powerful. He hadn't been driving for long, and she had warned him lightly not to get ahead of himself. He pulled out of the marked slot, white paint lining the ground, and then turned the car to join the line of others waiting one behind the other to leave the parking lot. Evening traffic was streaming past on the main road, the long stretch of asphalt already threatening to become clogged with Satomoblies and their numerous alternatives. The Satomobile was no longer the undisputed king of the road.

Eventually, Bolin was able to get moving. He joined the flow of traffic and thus began the relative crawl back to his apartment. It was not long before his fingers were tapping impatiently upon the large steering wheel. As a relatively new driver, he had not yet outgrown the excitement of having such speed and power at his beck and call. He had left home for work earlier than necessary on several occasions just so he could have the road to himself and thereafter give the car a little workout. To feel the power of the engine pulsing through the boxy body of the vehicle exhilarated him. However, rush hour traffic was very much the bane of his existence at the minute. It tripled the length of his journey home if he could not avoid it. There were alternatives to crawling along the main streets, though.

In his first few days of owning a vehicle, he took the car on several grand adventures, familiarising himself with the streets he had known only by foot, or coming upon new, untested roads altogether. So it was that he had learned a few routes that would ultimately lead him to the same destination, albeit more slowly than taking the more direct option. He turned left instead of crossing straight over the intersection, immediately able to lower his foot a little closer to the floor as the flow of traffic began to thin. A series of further turns led him onto quieter streets, the volume of cars here considerably less. The engine growled in delight as he pushed down on the pedal. His eyes lit up with the thrill of the burst of speed, though his brow was drawn in concentration.

Belatedly, as he made another left turn, he thought to glance around and check that there were no cops about to tag him. That would certainly do him no good. But as he had somewhat expected, he was in the clear. The sight of a pair of police officers walking the beat or standing at the corners of frequented streets had become uncommon in the last few years. However, something caught his eye as he made his quick, furtive checks. His gaze was drawn for a moment to his driver's side wing mirror. There he glimpsed another vehicle pulling out from behind his. From the shape of the silver grill at its nose, he recognised it as the latest incarnation of Red Sun Technologies' answer to the Satomobile. He pulled his eyes back to the road ahead.

It wasn't long before the car was easily pulling up alongside his. The Red Sun Accord boasted both greater power and maximum speed than the Satomobile, but lacked its efficiency in fuel consumption. Bolin was not surprised that the driver would seek to overtake him. The luxury of the Accord often afforded the owner a gloating sense of pride. He glanced aside as the car pulled level with him. The wide, mahogany brown vehicle did not surge past however, but rather sat on the road beside him, the oily rumble of its engine filling his ear. He turned his eyes ahead of him again before he could make out the occupants, but soon he was glancing back to it. There were three men inside, each wearing fedoras slanted forwards to shadow their brow. The window on the passenger's side was rolling down.

Consciously unbidden, a sense of wariness began to emerge from within him. Bolin kept his hands firmly on the wheel. He looked back to the Accord for the last time. The man in the passenger's seat had his arm resting casually on the rim of the window, elbow poking out into the air. He looked Bolin right in the eyes. His smile was sinister. He pointed with his hand as though to indicate something. Bolin faced forward. A block of stone jutted out of the ground directly ahead of him, tall enough to catch the edge of the Satomobile's grill. His eyes widened and his heart stopped. He heard the roar of the Accord's engine as he turned on the steering wheel with all his might.

* * *

_The telephone rang just as he was straightening his tie, standing in front of the slanted mirror with something of a frown upon his face. His hands ceased to move and he leaned to the right, as though he could know the caller's identity just by looking through into the living room and seeing the trilling device. It was sitting on a small round table beside the arm of the weathered couch. He was moving towards it in the next second. Something of a hope filled him as he reached out and took hold of the russet brown candlestick. Perhaps this time, he thought. He freed the bell of the listening device from its cradle._

_"Hello?"_

_"Hey, bro."_

_Mako's sigh was quiet and carefully restrained. Of course it was his brother. _

_"Bo."_

_"Listen," Bolin said as though Mako's attention had already wandered, "I've got some great news to tell you."_

_"So, tell me," Mako said when his brother fell silent._

_"I will, but over lunch."_

_Mako gave a groan of annoyance. "The last time I went out to lunch with you, you made me late to get back to work."_

_"I promise it won't happen this time."_

_"Right," Mako said, clearly reassured. "Look, I don't think I can, Bo –"_

_"Oh, stop," his brother interrupted him. "Trust me, this is really good news. You have to come."_

_Of late, Mako just didn't have the will to argue with Bolin for more than a few sentences. He breathed a sigh that he knew his brother would understand as acquiescence. As predicted, Bolin began to speak, youthful excitement barely restrained in his tone._

_"Good. You know the Republic Café?"_

_"Mm." It was roughly a ten minute walk from his building._

_"12:30 then," Bolin announced. "Don't be late."_

_"Don't forget that all I have is a lunch _hour_."_

_His brother chuckled. "I won't. You might, though."_

_Mako doubted that._

_"You'll see," Bolin said smoothly as though he were reading Mako's thoughts. "It's really good news."_

_"I'll take your word for it."_

_Mako set down the telephone afterwards, sparing a moment to adjust the listening device in its cradle. When he straightened his back, he gazed almost wistfully at the thing. He pulled his eyes away and headed back into the bedroom. It was better not to dwell on those thoughts. Instead, he pondered briefly what news his brother had to tell him. He sounded almost beside himself with the anticipation._

_"Bolin the metalbender. I think it would work out for you…"_

_He remembered her saying that, as they all stood together in the Fire Ferrets' changing room for the last time. The memory was as distinct as her voice. _

_Things had indeed worked out for his brother. Bolin had flown through the courses designed to test and then train an earthbender's ability to manipulate metal at an uncommon pace. He possessed more than a capability to metalbend, but an affinity for it. He passed the basic segments of the course within three months, moving on to conquer the intermediate and then advanced tiers over the span of two years. By right it should have taken him twice – if not three times as long. _

_Mako adjusted his tie before retrieving his jacket. It was difficult to restrain the smile of pride at his brother's success, even if Bolin could sometimes be irritable with his flaunting of his prowess. Collecting his necessary belongings, Mako approached the front door, slipping his feet into his shoes. He raised a hand to retrieve both sets of his keys, leaving the series of hooks barren. Afterwards, he stepped out into another day._

* * *

_The ten minute walk became a several minute jog; he was late. A narrow watch strapped around his wrist let him know just how late. It was presently 12:36, the ticking bronze hands informed him. Glancing in either direction as he reached the edge of the street, Mako slipped through the flow of traffic and crossed over to the other side of the road. Republic Café was around the corner from here, and his stride was long and hurried. _

_The façade was a wall of clear glass, partitioned by way of a stout door bordered with dull grey. The windows to either side were emblazoned with the establishment's logo: a tilted brown coffee cup hovering over a petite, slanted saucer, a thin, unbroken line of steam curling upwards. The logo sat above the heads of the customers who occupied the tables by the window, in this case a pair of couples passing contended smiles and soft laughter back and forth between them. Mako pushed through the heavy door._

_The first thought that came to him as he stepped through into the Café, a bell chiming somewhere above his head, was that it was larger than he expected. He had never been in here before, only knowing of the place thanks to the numerous times he had walked past its door. Chill jazz tunes were pumping out of the walls. He glanced around but couldn't identify their source. But he decided that he liked it. The majority of tables were small and rounded, ringed by two, three or sometimes four plum red chairs with backrests that curved gracefully to serve as armrests also. The main bar stood to the left hand side of the room, and from there Mako could already detect the rich, wholesome smell of freshly baked bread coupled with the sweet aroma of warm, delectable pastries. He began to realise just how hungry he was, having skipped out on breakfast._

_Expecting, or rather hoping, that his brother was already here, Mako turned his eyes away from the promise of sustenance and cast his gaze carefully across the room. He was beginning to gather attention, standing there in front of the door with a slight frown creasing his brow. He found Bolin eventually, sitting along the back wall towards the corner of the room. A moment later, he blinked. His brother was not sitting alone. A woman was sitting across the rectangular table from him, her back to Mako. She was the reason Bolin was not casting his eyes about for his tardy brother; they appeared to be engaged in conversation. Mako raised an eyebrow as he began making his way across the room, winding his way through the arrangement of tables and chairs. Bolin never tired of or failed to charm the ladies, it seemed._

_His brother finally noticed him as he drew near. His eyes grew, lighting up as his smile widened._

_"And here he is," Bolin announced jovially, "my brother, who taught me the value of punctuality."_

_Mako succeeded only just in preventing his eyes from rolling. "I was held up."_

_Bolin waved his hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. Important thing is you're here now. Bro, I want to introduce you to my new employer."_

_By this point, Mako had reached the table. The back wall was lined with a continuous stretch of plush, plum red seating, and it was there that his brother was sitting. A pair of chairs occupied the opposite side of the table and the woman, who had not yet shown her face to him, had taken the right hand seat. However, as Bolin made his announcement, rising to his feet to do so and beaming at his brother, the woman stood to hers and turned. Surprise hit him dead centre in the chest, pulling his eyebrows towards his hair and stunning him into silence. It was Asami._

_Her raven locks were pulled back into an elegant bun, shimmering as though they were a source of light themselves. He had never seen her with anything but her long, dark hair falling past her shoulders. The bun drew her hair away from her face, allowing one to admire the lush plum red of her lips and emphasising the soft, curving line of her cheekbones as she smiled. Her eyes, the colour of precious stones, sparkled, and he felt himself teetering on an edge that did not exist. Slowly, ungainly, he lifted his hand and extended it out towards her. He smiled politely; they had not seen each other in years. She took it, and her handshake was firm. Strong. She was a businesswoman, he remembered, as if her suit was not enough of an indicator._

_She was dressed sharply, exuding authority and presence, but yet still retained her femininity. Her ensemble was charcoal grey and striped almost indiscernibly with silver, the blouse she wore underneath her slim jacket shimmering black. Both her trousers (which ended at her ankles and gave way to low, polished heels) and jacket were cut to subtly highlight her shapely figure. Mako felt the coolness of a ring against his skin as they greeted one another, and silver sparkled as a thin necklace resting upon her skin. As he recalled, though a little vaguely, she had never worn earrings._

_"Mako," she said. Her voice was smooth, its tone measured, just as he remembered it, but there was an added weight to it now, a sense of confidence and surety that were the fruits of maturity and age. "You look like someone just punched you in the stomach."_

_"I wasn't expecting this," he admitted when he managed to find words, giving a weak chuckle as he spoke. _

_She smiled, her eyes unwavering as they met his. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I've been looking forward to seeing you again." She turned and looked at his brother. "Bolin insisted on keeping this a secret until the very last moment though."_

_Bolin smiled proudly when Mako looked at him. "Let's order some food," he said, pre-empting Mako's interrogative questions. "I don't know about anyone else, but I'm famished."_

_Menus were lying neatly arranged upon the beige tabletop, and as Asami turned to retake her seat, Mako belatedly realised that things were arranged for him to sit beside her. A pair of menus sat in wait on their side of the table in contrast with Bolin's one, which he was presently poring over as though it held secrets for him and him alone. A strange sense of awkwardness stole over him as he drew out his seat. Part of him wished he were on the other side of the table._

_"So, you work for Asami now?" Mako addressed his brother, glancing from Bolin to the woman sitting beside him. Woman; no more was she the girl he had last seen and spoken to six years ago. (She would be twenty-five now, a little bit older than him. He would catch up in a few months' time.) She held herself with poise, her back straight and her fingers spread equidistantly at the back of the open menu, steadily supporting its spine as she perused it. If he dared to glance beneath the table, he would see her right leg crossed neatly over her left._

_"Yup."_

_"It was an opportunity I couldn't afford to pass up," Asami said, lifting her eyes from the menu. There was something about her gaze, no doubt cultivated by the arduous years she had spent as the CEO of Future Industries. It was direct, searching, and Mako found his eyes automatically sliding away, unable to meet it. It took him a long moment and a silent scolding to pull them back onto hers. She smiled as though his inner struggle had gone unnoticed. "I've been keeping tabs on Bolin for longer than he realises. I wasn't the only one, in fact."_

_"Apparently, I'm hot stuff," his brother supplied helpfully._

_Asami chuckled. "You're the finest metalbender to come out of the Academy in the last two decades. You've no idea how many people have been watching your progress."_

_"His head is bloated enough," Mako interjected, eyeing Bolin. _

_"I'm only stating the facts," Asami said, laying down and closing her menu. Her hands were lowered to sit neatly in her lap. "Bolin popped up out of the ether as a metalbending prodigy. Were I to name all of the applications of metalbending within the industry, we would be here all afternoon. To put it simply, the Police Force has always been one of the most profitable customers in the market, and it is always seeking ways to better equip its law enforcing elite."_

_"Which is where I come in," Bolin picked up smoothly. "I – just stating the facts, bro – I can work metal better than, well, nearly every other metalbender in the city at the moment."_

_"I don't doubt it," Mako said. "I just wish you would behave like an adult with that knowledge."_

_"Don't worry," Asami spoke, and she lifted a hand to rest lightly upon his arm. "I'll keep your brother honest."_

_Mako's returned smile was strained. He was fighting to keep his eyes from dropping away from her gaze to the fingers briefly laid upon his forearm. The slender digits were crowned with well-kept nails, and he imagined the cool of her touch. When she turned away, looking to his brother as Bolin made the suggestion of calling over a waiter, Mako scolded himself once again. The only thing was he wasn't sure what exactly he should be scolding himself for. Asami nodded to Bolin's suggestion and Mako too gave a nod and a hum of agreement, despite having not settled on what he wanted to eat._

_"So what exactly will you be doing?" he asked, giving the menu another thorough look. _

_"If I understand it right," Bolin began, looking to Asami for confirmation, "I'm going to be heading up the research and development into new armour for the Police's metalbending unit."_

_Asami nodded. "Future Industries recently managed to secure a deal to exclusively handle the production of their equipment and all other related needs. We also have the backing of the United Council, which I imagine might have upset our main competitor. Are you familiar with Red Sun Technologies?"_

_"The name, at least," Mako replied with a small shrug._

_"After I restructured the company, they emerged as the biggest threat to Future Industries' recovery," she explained. "They haven't made things easy for us."_

_"Apparently, or so I'm told, the industry thrives from that kind of competition," Mako said. _

_Asami's mouth compressed into a thin line. "I would say it depends on the rules of the competition," she replied. Her smile returned moments afterward. Mako began to think that he had imagined her soured expression. _

_A waiter approached the table then, and his thoughts were distracted as the small, thin man jotted down the orders of Asami and Bolin while he scoured the menu. He eventually settled on a beefburger, which would be served in a crusty white bun and accompanied by dill pickles and horseradish mayonnaise. The waiter was very thorough. The man moved away when Mako nodded his affirmation. It took a moment for him to recollect his train of thought, though when he did he turned back to his brother._

_"You said you're leading the project?" When Bolin nodded, Mako glanced at Asami. "Not that I doubt him, but…this is Bolin's first real job."_

_"I am right here, you know," his brother said._

_"Don't worry," Asami told him again. "Bolin will be supported by a team of experienced advisors from the outset, but I want him to be the deciding voice while working on the project. Besides, your brother captained the Fire Ferrets for several years; he understands leadership."_

_Mako frowned, opening his mouth to disagree. "That's different."_

_"Bro," Bolin said with a tone of exasperation, "you can't seriously be thinking of lecturing me."_

_"I'm not," Mako said with a slight scowl. "I just want to know that you understand –"_

_"I do. Stop worrying, yeah? Just be happy for me."_

_"You know I am, Bolin. But –"_

_"Mako," Asami interrupted. The sound of her voice pulled his eyes back to her. Her smile had yet to wane, and her eyes shimmered with amusement. "I hope you realise you're insinuating that I don't know what I'm doing."_

_Mako paused. "No. I...I wasn't saying that."_

_"I don't want either of you to be mistaken," she said, looking between them, "the fact that we know each other is part of the reason I hired you, Bolin. But to put things simply: you're working for me to help facilitate Future Industries' turning a profit, and to bolster our standing amongst our competitors."_

_"Yes, ma'am," Bolin replied._

_She laughed. "Ms. Sato will do fine." _

_Mako watched them, for a moment feeling as though he was sitting apart from them entirely. He sighed inwardly, knowing it was high time and perhaps no longer his right to attempt to keep Bolin firmly under his watch. His brother was a man now. The days where he had huddled against his older sibling and complained softly of hunger and cold were no more, long gone and forgotten. Somewhat. Mako still and would likely always remember, but Bolin's life was in his own hands now._

_"Bo. I'm happy for you, really," he said, favouring his brother with a sincere smile. "As we used to say: knock it out of the park."_

_"I will," Bolin promised, grinning from ear to ear. He turned to Asami. "So when do I get that company car?"_

_Mako groaned and shook his head. Their food arrived while Asami was giving her answer._

_She had ordered a pasta risotto, and Bolin a gammon steak accompanied by a poor excuse for a salad. As Mako's plate was set down in front of him, the two began to eat. His brother possessed his typical gusto, though a little tempered considering they were in public. Mako could not resist sighing as he glanced up at him. Bolin, sensing the attention, merely looked up and gave a shrug. It was his nature._

_The meal was smattered with conversation, Asami querying Mako's career. She had asked only rudimentary questions of his brother about him, preferring to hear the fullness of it from his own lips. Mako told her of his progression from the green ranks of the Police Force, making light mention of the establishment's preference towards earthbenders, and after them waterbenders. The latter largely composed specialised taskforces. Firebenders were something of an awkward case; the element was largely viewed as being little more than dangerous and destructive, and firebending was regulated more thoroughly than its companion forms. And despite the continued push by the Equalists, whose voice was becoming ever louder in recent years, the doors of the Police Force had yet to open beyond the merest crack to non-benders._

_He described his eventual advancement into the department specialised for investigating and dealing with Equalist extremism. With something of a grimace, he made mention of the recent murmuring of spending cuts. Asami's expression was knowing as he spoke of the trimming and pruning the Police Force was having to consider. Financial issues had been plaguing the service most notably in the last two years, and to combat an increasing rise in crime, what were considered as non-essential departments in the immediate time frame were being forced to shrink, or being cut away entirely, in order to provide the funds to strengthen the Police presence on the streets._

_While he spoke, he was very much aware of a looming eventuality. Her questions had as of yet been solely about his work, and she listened to him with interest. In contrast to Bolin's unmistakeable enthusiasm, she chewed almost thoughtfully on her food. The portions that she transferred from the plate to her lips were small, manageable and her utensils held with an unfailing poise. He was gradually becoming more at ease with meeting and holding her gaze. At one point, after she had dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, she gazed at him for a long moment, unspeaking. Her eyes appeared to take in him as though she were seeing him for the first time. He began to feel increasingly awkward when they lingered at his neck._

_"Something's different about you," she mused._

_"Looks older, doesn't he?" Bolin said._

_"Mm. No, it's not that. Something else."_

_Mako waited, smiling politely but saying nothing. He saw the realisation blossoming in her eyes._

_"Ah. You're not wearing your scarf."_

_He managed to produce a brief, easy laugh. "I've held onto that thing for longer than I can remember. It's not in much of a state to be worn in public anymore."_

_Mako took care not to look towards his brother as he spoke._

_"I don't believe I've ever seen you without it," Asami said. "It was your father's, wasn't it?"_

_"Yeah."_

_Silence settled upon them for a moment, the tinkling of glasses and utensils throughout the room merging with the burble of conversation and washing over them. Mako anticipated the next words that Asami would speak, the topic that she would broach which he had been careful not to yet mention. His eyes turned down to his half eaten meal, he could at the edge of his vision see the look forming upon Bolin's face. It was something bordering on concern, but he at least had the sense to not leave his expression naked with Asami in the vicinity._

_"How is Korra?" she asked then, her tone light and conversational._

_"She's doing well, according to her letters," he replied._

_"Ah. What is she up to, then? Solving someone else's problems as usual?"_

_Mako could hear the smile in her voice. He had to manufacture his own as he looked up._

_"Probably. You know Korra."_

_He shook back the cuff of his jacket, revealing his watch. It was almost half past one. He gave a hiss of annoyance. "I'm late," he said, and he glared momentarily at his brother._

_"Didn't realise the time had gone already," Bolin said, lifting his hands apologetically._

_"Sorry, I need to run," he directed mostly at Asami, beginning to rise to his feet. "My superior isn't very lenient when it comes to punctuality."_

_"Oh, well it was good to see you again. I hope this won't just be a one-off occurrence."_

_"Me too," he said, instead of the hesitant, noncommittal thoughts running through his head. _

_It occurred to him as Asami rose to her feet that shaking her hand again as a farewell gesture would not be appropriate. But neither did he feel that he should embrace her as though the last six years of their non-communication had not occurred. She offered a solution to his indecision by leaning forward, a hand resting lightly on his upper arm as she touched her cheek briefly against his. It was awkward and yet comfortable in the same breath. She was warm and soft, and he could detect faintly a pleasant fragrance that reminded him inexplicably of a springtime morning's avian chorus. When she drew away, his eyes dropped to the floor and then were able to rise no higher than her lips._

_"Okay. See you, both," he said._

_"I'll probably call you later, bro," Bolin said. "Tell you how my first day went."_

_"I'm just showing him around today, making introductions," Asami supplied._

_"Right. Don't get into trouble," he shot at his brother._

_"It would be a shame to be fired on my first day now, wouldn't it?"_

_Mako had a retort ready, but he was aware that he was in a rush. He turned back to and smiled briefly at Asami, preparing to move away. The glimmer of her eyes disarmed him for a moment, and he teetered as he had done when he first met them. His foot caught the leg of the chair as he moved out from between it and the table. Quicker than thought as his balance was upset and his limbs began to flail, he felt Asami's strong grip about his upper arm, keeping him upright._

_"Careful now," she said, her gaze upon his, "that would've been embarrassing for all of us."_

_He laughed weakly; several other customers were already glancing across in their direction._

_"Thanks," he said. "Well, I'd better get going." _

_He was a little more careful as he made to walk away this time, but he looked back over his shoulder before he had taken more than two steps. For the first time, he met her eyes without needing to fight an inexplicable urge to look away._

_"It was good to see you, Asami."_

* * *

Mako's expression was mournful as he looked down at his little brother, unconscious with his right leg held stiff by a thick cast and his arm and shoulder wrapped tightly in a sling. Whereas he was seated, Asami was on her feet at the opposite side of the bed, arms folded and her lips thin. She was enfolded in a long beige overcoat, its hem reaching just below her knees, and she was still wearing her leather driving gloves. There was an intensity simmering in her eyes when she spoke.

"Bolin was a relatively new driver, but he wasn't stupid."

Mako released a heavy sigh. "Asami, what else could have happened? You and I were always telling him to be careful. Everyone who saw what happened has the same story: he was speeding, hit a rut in the road and lost control of the car. That's it."

Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing in response. Mako looked back down to his brother, almost wishing he was awake despite the pain he would have to endure so that he could shout at him.

He had lost count of the number of times he had cautioned Bolin. His brother was like a child, too excited by the prospect of speed. He had seen it for himself. Bolin would always nod and give him a perfunctory 'Yeah, I know, bro' whenever he challenged him. Mako unwillingly recalled a lesson his father had instilled into him; there were only so many times you could talk to a person, and eventually you would just have to watch them learn the hard way. His father never divulged how difficult that experience would be.

He received the call whilst he was preparing to clear up his desk for the day at work. It was Asami. He had supplied her with the number shortly after the first time he had lunch with her and his brother. She explained that Bolin had been involved in a car accident, that his condition was currently a cause for concern, and that he had been brought to Republic Central Hospital. He bolted before she had the chance to ask if he wanted her to pick him up on her way there. He had gotten there courtesy of a colleague who passed near to the hospital along their journey home, having once more opted to take public transport to work over his motorbike (which was becoming increasingly more expensive and difficult to maintain in working order, and he was considering selling off soon).

Asami arrived a few short minutes before him, and was waiting in the entrance foyer. She had already gathered the available details concerning Bolin. He was brought in roughly half an hour before she had been made aware of the incident, and was currently being kept in the A & E unit as the severity of his injuries were assessed. When he was at last transferred to a general room and Asami and Mako permitted to see him, Mako had balked at the state of his brother. Asami quietly rested her hand upon his arm, helping him overcome his initial paralysing shock. It occurred to him that he had no idea how he would have reacted were she not there with him.

"I told him, over and over, but he wouldn't listen," Mako said, bitterness in his voice. "Damn you, Bolin. Why didn't you listen to me?"

His hands were clenched as tightly as his jaw. His eyes were hard upon his brother, Bolin's face marred with bruises and stitches where the glass had torn into his skin. The edges of his vision were beginning to blur with tears he would not let fall in front of Asami. Grief was shrouded and then swallowed by anger and a sense of betrayal that his brother would ignore the advice and wisdom of those who cared for him.

"As I said," Asami spoke firmly, "Bolin wasn't stupid. Eager, yes – point me to a new driver who isn't – but not stupid."

Mako didn't know why she was persisting in defending his brother's mistake. "Asami –"

"Look, Mako," she cut across him, eyes flashing, "this isn't the first time I've stood at the bedside of one of my employees. There have been too many 'accidents' and 'unfortunate circumstances' for my liking."

Naturally, Mako found that he did not particularly care for any other injured persons besides his brother.

"Coincidence," he said shortly, turning back to Bolin's unconscious form.

"Mm. Coincidence. So I'm told when I request a police investigation time and again. These cases seem awfully easy for them to put to rest."

Mako wasn't listening, or he was but her words had failed to take root. "What?"

He looked to her when she spoke, and her eyes held his. She searched his expression and perhaps determined something, for she gave a small shake of her head and exhaled softly.

"It doesn't matter. That Bolin is alive and out of immediate danger is the important thing."

"Right," Mako managed to reply after a few moments.

They remained in silence afterwards. Asami did not take her seat, but rather stood as though acting sentinel beside the bed, her arms folded and her expression unreadable. Mako didn't know how much time passed them by, but eventually a nurse crept into the small room with its cold, indistinct walls to inform them that visiting hours were coming to an end. Asami sighed and unfolded her arms when Mako remained still in the nurse's absence.

"Come on," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need a ride home?"

Her touch gradually stirred him from the waking dream he had begun to fall into. He looked up to see her eyes offering understanding. He himself sighed before nodding. "If it's not too much…"

"It isn't. Come on," she said again.

Her hand fell away as he stood to his feet, sombre. He looked down at his brother, and despite his feelings, wished him well. He touched his hand briefly to Bolin's arm before turning and following Asami out of the room.

* * *

Night had fallen when Mako sat down in front of his desk and retrieved the letter from the inner pocket of his jacket. Creased and folded, he smoothed it out carefully, holding his thumb and finger at the corners as he rested his chin against the heel of his palm. He read it slowly, as though the words were a code and it was the first time he had laid eyes upon them. In truth, he knew them by heart.

_I miss you, so much. I wish you could be here, just to hold me. The nights are so cold._

_I forgive you, and I'm sorry. I need this. I hope you can forgive me. I promise, I'll –_

_I love you. Please, don't forget that._

It was the only letter she had not signed with her name, but it was the only one of the three sent to him that he undoubtedly knew Korra had written.

The first arrived two weeks after he had sent her remaining clothes along with Tenzin. He recognised Korra's penmanship the moment he spied his name on the back of the envelope. He almost tore the letter in his haste to open it. What was contained within it however was, for all intents and purposes, a report. Korra was well; her parents were well; her old waterbending teacher was well, and she was helping her teach the locals; she had received her clothes from him and was grateful, and that was all. There was no mention of his scarf. She asked after his wellbeing, but it almost seemed as though the enquiry had been tacked on for the sake of being polite.

Something had grown cold and tight within him as he read and reread the letter, trying to pierce through the indifferent tone and hear the real voice of the woman he knew. But it wasn't there. He was disheartened, but nevertheless he sat down to write his reply. The six or so lines he eventually wrote took him the better part of an evening to produce. Bright and early the next morning, he took a boat over to Air Temple Island and managed to catch Tenzin just as he was preparing to leave for a Council meeting. The Councilman promised to get the letter to Korra, but he seemed distracted when he spoke. Mako should have trusted the letter to Pema; her husband set it down and would never remember it again.

He waited for six months for Korra's next correspondence, all the while unaware that his letter remained unmoved from Tenzin's home office. He grew ever more disheartened by the delay of what he thought to be her reply, and when it had finally come he felt his stomach churn with anticipation, his heart beginning to lighten with relief. However, he opened it to find that it was similar to her first. Her parents were well; Katara was well; Naga was dead.

Rightly so, he had stared at those words, dumbfounded. The tone of the letter changed abruptly as he eventually managed to continue reading.

Korra had been attacked by another polar bear dog while roaming the arctic plains with Naga. They were seen as a threat to the mother's newborn cubs. Naga was mortally wounded while defending and managing to escape with her fallen master. In an utterly detached tone, Korra described the four-inch scar running down her left thigh. She ended the letter with the words: "_Perhaps the Spirits are telling me I need to move on. I suppose I should listen."_

He knew not what to write in reply. He had stared at a blank sheet of paper for long, silent hours. Korra's letter had been cold and dispassionate. She did not ask after him this time. She had not answered to any of the questions he didn't know never reached her. But he tried to be understanding; she was in grief. He wished that he could be there for her, to hold her until she cried and until she had finished. What Naga meant to him was nothing compared to what she had been for Korra. But there was a whispering voice at the back of his mind, a voice that wondered why it had taken so long for her to write back to him. It wondered whether she would have even bothered were it not for Naga's passing, for that was the matter that dominated the letter.

And then, three weeks later, came the letter he was presently looking at. Her third, and last. It made no mention of where she was, and though he burned to reply, there was no inkling of an address for him to write back to. He read it, time and again, had pored over and studied it as though his life depended on his understanding its every nuance. Perhaps it did.

_"I wish you could be here, just to hold me."_

(How his heart ached when he had first read that. Oh, the restlessness that plagued him for nights afterwards. It mattered not whether he slept or stared up at the dark ceiling; he dreamt of her.)

_"I forgive you."_

(So she had understood the gesture of his sending his scarf. He was indescribably glad.)

_"I love you. Please, don't forget that."_

(How could he? How could she even think he would?)

But there was something that drew his eye once and again. He had stared at those three words with an indiscernible concoction of emotions simmering within him as the days and weeks and months stretched on. It was the one incomplete sentence of the nine she had written, and he could see how much of an effort it had taken for her to restrain herself and leave it unfinished.

_"I promise, I'll –"_

Ink had blotted at the end of the third word. She held the pen there for some time, thinking, debating, wondering whether she should dare after the words he had spoken to her before they parted ways. It was simple enough to guess what was left unwritten.

_"I promise, I'll come back."_

And he knew why she had left those words unwritten, because to write them would only leave one possibility for those that would come afterwards.

_"I promise, I'll come back. Wait for me."_

She dared not ask such a thing of him. He had branded her selfish, and to make such a request when she had not told him her whereabouts or intentions, nor for how long she would be gone, would be the epitome of selfishness. But her leaving it unsaid only made the words all the more clearer to him. Why else would she have asked for his forgiveness?

It was bearable at first, to wait. Not easy, but bearable. He thought she would return soon. What exactly it was that had driven her from the city had never come to light, not officially, but he knew that he didn't care. He just wanted her back. She had asked him to wait, and so he would. He kept the letter upon his person day after day, folding it neatly into his inner pocket. It was her love; her promise.

The days wore on, became weeks, became months and still Korra did not return. He knew nothing of her save the letter, and slowly he began to grow cold. On the night that marked their anniversary, he took a bottle of liquor and the letter and locked himself away. She had made no further effort to correspond with him. She sent nothing to let him know that she was well, that she was thinking of him, that she even gave a damn whether or not he was still alive. The drink was strong. It wasn't really, but Mako had never had the tolerance for alcohol. He drank himself to sleep that night. When he woke up the following morning, he found the letter screwed up and lying amongst empty bottles. He smoothed it out and tucked it back into his pocket.

The months became years. Two long years. Still no word from Korra. He screwed up her letter twice more. The third time, he was sober, and in this state he brought a fierce flame within inches of the balled paper. But he couldn't do it. That night was the first since his parents' murder that he had cried. Tears fell in confusion, in pain, silently and their flow unhindered.

She asked him to wait, just for a while. Couldn't he do that for her? She had given him her promise; when had she ever broken it? She had waited her whole life to see the world, to be allowed to go forth and at last become what she was born to be. All she asked of him was a little patience, a little understanding, and there he was, sitting hunched against the wall in a darkened room, crying like an idiot. Like he had not foreseen that this would have to occur at some point in their lives.

Korra was the Avatar. She belonged not only to him.

But slowly, carefully, a thought was taking root within him: neither could she keep him selfishly to herself. What right did she have, to go gallivanting across the world and forget his existence but yet dare to try and keep him tethered to her? He had waited, faithfully, but her promise was broken.

Mako closed his eyes against her letter, silent and still as he dwelt in darkness. He was very much aware of his fingers upon the creased paper. He could hear her voice, whispering.

_I love you…_

After a long, deliberative moment, he opened his eyes and began to neatly fold the letter small. He tucked it back into the inner pocket of his jacket. Perhaps he could wait a little longer.

* * *

**A/N: So, you might've spotted the title change, to which I have given my reasoning at the end of the Author's Note in the previous chapter. But to summarise: this story has blossomed far beyond my original vision, and I had begun to feel constrained in my writing. Its contents does not, in my mind, accurately match up with the title 'When To Run'. Thus we now have 'A World Of Grey'.**

**Thanks to those who have favourited/followed recently, glad to have you along for the ride. I'm quite excited about what I have in store for you all. I want this story to be something that sticks with you even after you've navigated away from the page. But that's all I'll say for now. Till next time, folks.**


	11. Chapter 11

The day was warm, bands of cloud stretching across the sky. The sun hung high at its zenith, and far below the streets of the Lower Ring buzzed with activity. As morning made way for noon, a pair of police officers stood near the edge of the road, a man and woman. The latter lifted a hand to push a fallen strand of dark hair beneath her cap, the thumb of the other tucked loosely beneath a thick, elasticated duty belt. The belt was a band of copper brown around the waist of her forest green uniform, matching her epaulettes, and the buttons of her jacket glinted bronze. Hanging from the belt at her left side was a truncheon, fastened securely so that a quick fingered passer-by could not prise it away without her noticing.

Smatterings of disjointed conversations flitted around her, a few moments later overtaken by the drone of a passing Robin. The engine of the small, boxy vehicle groaned loudly, pulling along its weight with evident difficulty and puffing black smoke into the air. The woman covered her mouth and nose as the Robin passed by, grimacing at the acrid taste of its exhaust fumes.

It did not take long for the advent of personal vehicular transport to take off in Ba Sing Se. Several years after the Hundred Year War's end, it was deemed ruinous to keep the city's mass transit service free to the public, and the cost of travel steadily increased over time as the post-war government sought ways to stave off the worst of its economic issues. Ba Sing Se's population was very much dependent upon the Monorail network, begrudgingly and with much complaint emptying their pockets for the necessity of commuting within the city. However, an alternative eventually emerged.

It had been eighteen years since the first car was made available to the common man, its design clearly pinched from that of the Satomobile, though it lacked the trademark quality of build and reliability. Yet still, its inception saw a boom across the city. A stagnant industry in the wake of the war was revitalised, and business after business reached out to partake of the plentiful fruit.

The oily grumble of cars passing by grated against the staccato of footsteps and the simultaneous chatter of a hundred voices as the woman cast her eyes over the heads of the people filling the walkpaths, smiling small and politely at those who caught her gaze. The raised stone surfaces were new concepts to the populace of the Lower Ring, who for as long as time had stood shared every inch of their streets with man, beast and drawn carriage. However, with the ever increasing popularity and ownership of motorised transport, heavy and rapid reconstruction of the streets of the Lower Ring had been conducted to accommodate.

It was not uncommon for stretches of housing to be lost in the process, the complaints of their inhabitants mere whispers to the powers that be, sitting comfortably in the more affluent Rings of the vast city. The Lower Ring was often the subject of experimental policy, to judge how it might affect those with a voice loud enough to be heard and pockets deep enough to warrant caution.

The woman's eyes were keen as she looked towards the opposite side of the narrow street. They were still technically on duty, despite her partner's insistence that a few moments taken for themselves would not harm anyone. He was presently waiting in a short line at a food vendor's stall, and she could not deny the tightness of her stomach as she basked in the rich aromas floating towards her. The owner was not the only one to have taken advantage of the foot traffic of this particular street, having to compete with several more vendors lined along both sides of the road.

"Serra," a voice called out, drawing her attention. She turned to find her partner approaching her, twin paper bags held in the grip of his hand.

"Here," he said, offering one of them to her.

"What did you get me?" she asked warily.

He nodded towards the bag. "Take a look."

When he had asked her what she wanted, she shrugged, feeling not so much hungry as peckish. However, once she took the bag and opened it, her eyes lit up.

"They're your favourite, right?" Gan said, and when she looked up he was smiling. His smile promptly disappeared as he began to push sticky riceballs into his mouth. Serra merely hummed her reply, taking one of the plump dumplings between her fingers. Rich, warm flavour flooded her tongue when she bit into it. Her lips curved into an appreciative grin after she popped the rest into her mouth.

"Thanks," she said, her voice muffled. Gan shrugged, chewing enthusiastically.

"See?" he said once he had swallowed, "no harm done."

Serra glanced across at him, briefly tapping the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, but we'll be in trouble if one of our superiors happens to come along."

Gan brushed away the grains of rice as she indicated, dipping his hand back into the paper bag. "If," he replied.

They stood in comfortable silence as the street bustled all around them. The walkpaths were thick with people, but the officers were akin to stubborn pebbles within a stream. The flow of bodies moved around them ("Oh, my apologies, officer," said one. "Beg pardon. Didn't see you there, ma'am," said another.) and they remained for the moment still, but their eyes were watchful.

Gan finished first, scrunching up the paper bag after wiping his fingers clean with it. It took a shallow arc through the air as he tossed it towards a nearby waste bin. Serra rolled her eyes when it hit the rim, falling to the ground, and Gan's mild brown gaze was suddenly elsewhere.

"Pick it up," she told him, her tone exasperated. "It's bad enough you're that close to the bin, let alone a police officer."

He obeyed after giving a defeated chuckle. As he crouched down to retrieve the greased ball of the paper bag another sailed past his head, disappearing into the bin. He turned with purposeful slowness to face his partner. She smirked, licking the tip of her thumb and forefinger as she moved away. He caught up with her after properly depositing his own rubbish and the two officers strode purposefully along the length of the street.

"Akiko's been asking when you're going to visit again," Gan said as they rounded a corner. "Says you're more fun than me or her mother."

Serra smiled. "Ha. That's cute. But she's only seen me once."

"You must be really good with kids, then. Tips?" Gan said, glancing across at his partner with a raised, curious eyebrow.

Serra looked back at him as they eased through the tide of pedestrians, her mouth curved humorously. "Do whatever they want you to do with them."

"Whatever she wants?" Gan said, and when Serra nodded he shook his head with a weary chuckle. "You don't know how demanding she can be. I don't have the energy to keep up with her."

"You're barely thirty," Serra said, lifting a hand unconsciously to her nose as she heard the tell-tale rumble of a Robin.

"Marriage'll do that to you," her partner murmured.

The Robin's passing by drowned out his words, and Serra was too busy coughing as thick smoke clung to the air to have heard him. He watched her with something of a smile on his face, her eyes screwed up and tears welling at the corners. When she looked at him and her aquamarine gaze seemed to ask what the hell he was finding so amusing, he cracked into a grin. Taking her arm, he pulled her away from the edge of the walkpath, exchanging positions with her.

"You've been here for what, two years now?" Gan said. "You should be used to it."

"Shut up," she retorted, recovering her composure.

A burst of static at his chest swallowed his reply. Both of them glanced to the bulky radio affixed to his uniform. The mood between them suddenly carried a hint of tension as they paused.

"_Attempted robbery on East Shai Road. Available units, please respond."_

Gan tilted his head and leaned his mouth towards the radio. "Two-one-seven, three-six-four, responding. We're about ten minutes out."

_"Copy, two-one-seven. Reported use of earthbending at the scene."_

As his hand left the radio, Serra was already turning to the face the direction they had come from. Gan joined her as they jogged back around the corner and along the long stretch of road afterwards, threading through the pedestrians. Unavoidably, shoulders met with the bodies of those who were sluggish in darting out of the officers' way.

It took close to eight minutes before they turned onto East Shai Road. Their attention was drawn immediately to the beginnings of a crowd of people gathering near the front of a shop, a section of the walkpath outside torn and scattered with broken stone. Serra brought her hand up to her own radio as Gan moved forward to disperse the curious onlookers.

"Actual, three-six-four. We are on scene. Location is a grocery store."

_"Copy, three-six-four. Do you need assistance?"_

"Not yet," Serra informed the operator, dropping her hand from the radio after she had spoken. She moved towards her partner as he lifted his voice above the clamour of the street. His usual light tone smoothly took on a stern volume of authority as curiosity turned the onlookers stubborn. He glanced towards her as she neared.

"I'll go in and find out what happened here," he said. "Don't let anyone else inside until we're finished. We'll cordon that off afterwards," he added, pointing towards the damage done to the walkpath.

Serra nodded, taking Gan's position as he turned and disappeared into the shop. "Move along," she instructed the tarrying, nosy few who remained, her arms spread out to either side of her. There were of course some who were a little more persistent, standing on the tips of their toes to peer around her. Serra ushered them along when they drew too close, keeping her expression polite but tone firm. After nearly fifteen minutes, her partner emerged from the shop, its owner at his heel. Serra turned her head as the latter's disgruntled voice reached her.

"…third time this month, and all I have from you is an empty reassurance."

"There's not a lot we can do, Mr Lau."

"Those ruffians ruined a large bulk of my produce! Do you know much it costs these days to ship those cabbages from the Agrarian Zone?"

Gan lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry, Mr Lau. We're going to have to report the damages caused by your use of earthbending –"

"You do that," the man interrupted, impatience carving deep lines into his expression. "Did you expect me to sit on my hands while waiting for you to show up?"

Serra felt the frustration in her partner's measured sigh. "Someone will be in touch, Mr Lau."

Gan joined her side after encircling the damaged section of the walkpath in yellow tape, securing the tape around a quartet of sturdy earthen poles he bended into place. He briefly popped up his cap and scratched at his short crop of hair as he contemplated his work. He shared her grimace as they moved away from the shop, leaning down into his radio as he reported the situation.

The Lower Ring was rife with criminal activity, and the police presence there was at all times stretched beyond its means. Gan and Serra, patrol officers, were more likely to come across the aftermath of a crime than arrive in time to apprehend it, and their circumstance was not uncommon. In the span of their average shift, the pleasant, light moment they had earlier taken for themselves was just that; a moment.

"It's going to be another long day," Serra said, breaking the silence between them.

"Another long day," Gan agreed.

* * *

The clink of machinery filled the room, punctuated by grunts of effort and sometimes a foul curse of annoyance. Stacked along one of the cold, grey walls were numerous sets of weights, ideally arranged according to their size and purpose, though the reality was a lot less tidy. Dumbbells estranged from their matching pair lay haphazardly upon the tough grey matting, silver bars slick with perspiration. The constant whine and creak of a large and weary ventilation system heralded the pumping of fresher air into the gym. Its inhabitants were attuned to the musky scent of the room, however. It was easier to ignore once the burn of the muscles began to settle in.

Serra slowly rolled her shoulders as she sat astride the bench, contemplating the long silver bar and the thick iron discs affixed to each end. It had indeed been a long day, and the draining feeling of fatigue was more evident than usual. Yet still, she pushed herself through the sets, determined to see her workout through to the end. She enjoyed weight training, savouring the ache of her limbs and the tautness of her muscles. She adjusted her fingerless gloves, eyeing the bar as though it were her lifelong foe. She wore them primarily for grip, and also because the thought of handling the previous user's sweat revolted her.

And she had seen some of her fellow officers dripping buckets.

She took deep breaths as she swung her legs over the dark, hard bench and turned her face towards the wall. Rolling her shoulders again, she glanced aside as she heard a man swear loudly, followed by a heavy, metallic clunk. She knew she was procrastinating as she tilted her head in both directions, earning a small pop as she stretched her neck. Rebellious strands of hair escaped the thick knot at the back of her head, brushing against her skin.

"Come on, girl," Serra said, pumping herself up. She could almost hear her body complaining pre-emptively as she lowered herself onto her back. She ducked her head and settled herself beneath the bar. Lifting and curling her hands around it, she felt the cool metal against the exposed skin of her fingers. Her lips peeled apart and a small grunt escaped her as she lifted the bar from its rack. Deftly controlling the weight, she allowed herself time to familiarise with it and settled her balance. Then, she slowly lowered it towards her chest.

She was aiming for five repetitions; the weight was one she had handled before. However, she could feel intuitively the ache in her arms as she completed the first, exhaling audibly as she pushed the bar up into the air. Each rep was a little slower than the last, and by the time she came to the fourth her teeth were all but clenched. She was not unaware of the slight trembling of her right arm, but she was determined to finish the set. She hated bailing out.

"Come on. Just one more. Just…_one more."_

Serra knew it was a mistake the moment she began to lower the weight. She knew immediately that she didn't have the strength left to lift it again. She was prevented the embarrassment of being trapped beneath it by a pair of hands that suddenly appeared at the centre of the bar, fingers curled loosely. She felt the pressure on her arms lighten, just enough.

"You're stubborn. You know that, right?" Gan said once her final rep was complete and he helped her set the bar back in its rack.

"So you keep telling me," Serra replied, the rise and fall of her chest pronounced as she lay on the bench.

Gan leaned on the bar, favouring her with a stern expression. "One day, I won't be here, and you are going to be the source of much amusement."

Serra contemplated the man for a moment. Then she lazily sent her fist up towards his pointed chin. Gan jerked backwards, laughing.

"Shift, come on," he said, moving around the bench. Serra lifted herself up onto her feet, reaching down beside the bench to retrieve her towel. Gan spoke again as she draped it round her neck.

"You done?"

"Yeah," Serra replied, dabbing at her brow. "Gonna hit the showers."

Gan was busy adding another weighted disc to each end of the bar. "Spot for me, would you?"

Serra gave a shrug. "Sure. How many reps?"

"Eight," he said, fastening the discs in place. "Probably need help around five or six."

Serra nodded, moving to stand behind his head as he lay down on the bench, taking a moment to settle himself. She wiped the bar down before he reached up and curled his hands around it.

"Got it?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

Eyes focused, he smoothly lifted the bar from its rack and into position above him. Serra stood with her hands held out in front of her, ready to step in when Gan needed help. He exhaled with each pump of the weight. The first four repetitions were smooth, the fifth a little slower. After pushing it upwards, he paused, fingers momentarily unlatching and then curling around the bar once more. As he moved into his sixth rep, Serra placed two fingers of either hand beneath the bar, exerting little pressure. Gan gave a small jerk of his head in acknowledgement.

A disinterested voice spoke from somewhere to her left. "Are you done?"

Serra recognised it, but didn't return an answer until Gan's rep was finished.

"Almost."

"Take your time," the woman said, and Serra's brow creased with annoyance.

Gan's final repetition was noticeably the most difficult. His mouth was a tight line as he lowered the weight towards his chest. "Last one," Serra murmured as he gave a grunt of effort and his eyes narrowed. She increased the force she exerted on the bar fractionally. A strangled shout left Gan's clenched teeth as he pushed the bar up towards her.

"Nice," she said as he completed the rep, helping him stow the bar back in its rack. The frame of the bench rattled as it dropped into place. Serra wiped her hands on the towel as Gan sat up, breathing hard. She didn't look across to the woman until she spoke again.

"Not wearing the boyfriend today?"

Serra kept her expression polite as she lifted her eyes. The pale mocha skin of the woman was cut with defined lines, her shoulders broad and strong. Her gaze was grey and cold, and her jet black hair was pulled into a tight, short tail. Like Serra, she wore fingerless gloves. With her arms folded across her chest, the curve and definition of her biceps was plain for all to see.

"Good observation," Serra answered lightly.

The woman's eyes narrowed after a moment. She did not miss the veiled meaning of the remark. Her lips curved into a humourless smirk.

"If you're done, officer."

Serra hated it when she did that.

"Yes, ma'am," she answered, jaw tight.

"Wonderful. Gan," she said, turning to and acknowledging him. There was tension in his face as he nodded, stepping aside as the woman moved towards the bench. Serra promptly turned away and headed for the changing rooms. Gan caught up with her just before the corridor split according to gender.

"Serra."

"I'm good," she said, stripping off her gloves as they left behind the sounds and smell of the gym.

"Listen, don't let –"

"I'm fine, Gan," she reiterated, pausing in her stride. When she looked at him and he saw her expression, he dropped the subject. "What are you doing later? Busy?"

"Why's that?"

"I was thinking we could go and catch a movie. My treat," she said. "You've been buying me snacks all week."

Gan shrugged. "Nothing special about that."

"Is that a no?"

He laughed quietly. "I can't tonight, Hana has plans."

Serra pursed her lips "Hmm. Well, alright. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Say hello to your daughter for me," she said as she turned away.

"Will do. I'll try out your advice too," he called after her.

Serra smirked as she walked away, lifting a hand in a farewell gesture before turning into the women's changing room. Her shower was brief but thorough, rinsing the sweat and grime from her skin. She paused only to trace the path of the scar that ran down her left thigh, her eyes growing dim with reminiscence. After she finished, she towelled herself dry and dressed, the clothes she donned reminding her of home.

The navy blue vest was sleeveless, and would bare her muscled arms to the sun were it not for the thin, dark jacket she shrugged on afterwards. She exchanged the knee-length shorts she wore while in the gym for loose, somewhat baggy trousers of a similar dark hue. It was a relief to put them on after spending a day in the tight, pressed uniform of a police officer. Serra waited until she had left the changing rooms and the building altogether before tugging a last article out of the bag slung over her shoulder. She wrapped it securely round her neck.

Serra didn't feel like walking home. She dug into her inner pocket and retrieved her wallet, flipping it open to see if she could afford the expense. Taxis were not particularly cheap on this side of the Lower Ring. It was not necessarily a new concept, just presented differently to the people of the city. She supposed that the sometimes eyebrow-raising prices could be justified by the fact that a car cost decidedly more to own and run than a drawn carriage (which were fast falling out of favour with the general populace), not to mention being swifter in getting one where they wanted to go.

Deciding that she could afford it, Serra walked towards the main road where she could flag down a car. The Lower Ring melted into its more affluent cousin several miles east of the police station, so taxi drivers felt a little more comfortable about offering their services in this area than they would deeper into the Ring. There, not even the notably more concentrated police presence served as a reliable deterrent for criminal activity.

Serra joined the mill of people who were each leaving behind their own working lives for the day, perhaps to return to a husband or wife; a significant other and their children. She did not have that much to look forward to, only silence and her own thoughts. The first taxi drove straight past her and she wasn't surprised, glimpsing the man's expression. It sent her thoughts back half an hour, reminding her of the look she received from the deputy chief.

Neither approved of her presence.

The second driver was more amicable, though the first had not set much of a bar to surpass. Stopping to admit her was good enough, and he spoke only to ask her destination. Serra told him and then leaned back into the seat as he pulled away from the kerb. She watched the streets pass by in something that could not quite be called silence. The grumble of the engine accompanied every inch of their journey.

She counted her coins and paid the driver as he drew up outside of the seven storey building. Depending on whether she received her pay in a timely manner, it was possible she would end up missing some of them. She chose not to worry about it for the time being, however. She had already inflicted several headaches upon herself during the first few months of living in the city. Managing her own money was not something she had prior experience with.

She had to punch in a code to get into the building, the thick grey keypad emitting a click with each button press. She heard a familiar buzz, followed by the sound of the front doors unlocking. It was a new building, she had been told, built in the last six years. Compared to what her eyes had become used to, she would have been hard pressed to believe such a statement had she not seen the manner of accommodation further into the Lower Ring. Crumbling, pitted walls were a common sight there, both within and without the buildings. She really couldn't complain, she thought, pushing through the doors and hearing them click shut at her back.

Her apartment was on the fourth floor. The sound of footsteps upon the cold staircase leading up through the building accompanied her. She could hear faintly the sounds of children and an arguing man and woman as she walked past the door leading on to the second floor. When she reached her own, she swiftly unlocked it and slipped the key back into her pocket. Serra glanced to either side before turning the handle and pushing the door open.


	12. Chapter 12

_She walked along the beach, her stride slow and measured. Her hair fell to brush along her shoulders, and the hem of her shift, a colour to match that of her eyes, fluttered just above her knees. Her skin was kissed by the warmth of a perpetually fading sun, her feet sinking with each step into the sand beneath them. The sounds of the sea, of the water being gently pushed and pulled, soothed her. And so she continued to walk, no particular destination in mind, no particular question heavy upon her thoughts. She had come here simply to find peace, to escape from the small, whispering voices within her. She was once told that this would be good for her, when she found that she was restless._

_And so she walked._

_An alien sound began to perturb her, a tapping that most certainly did not belong, metallic in its nature. Her expression was fashioned into a frown as it began to louden, scratching against the pleasant murmur of her sanctuary. She could not ignore it, nor shake the feeling that she ought to waken, and soon. _

_She did not wish to return to herself just yet. She fought, but the desire to remain was steadily waning, and in its place was something that whispered instinctual caution. As she began to listen to that voice and the metallic tapping grew clearer to her ear, she felt her form lighten. The burnished gold of the sun, the soft brown of the sand and the vibrant hue of the ocean – all these things began to swiftly lose their lustre, growing ever less tangible and fading to darkness as she drew herself away._

_Weight and awareness swiftly settled upon her, and she found herself sitting with her legs folded and her fists lightly touching. Her eyes flashed open and she turned her ear towards the source of the noise. It was coming from the front door. Specifically, it appeared to be coming from the keyhole, as though something was rummaging around inside of it, searching for something. Her eyes narrowed. After another moment, she quickly and quietly drew herself up onto her feet._

_The apartment was a single room, the bedroom the kitchen and the kitchen the living room. All contained within a space that was relatively square in shape, the front door was obscured from her position next to the small bed by a section of wall that jutted forwards into the room, providing a corner that she would later make it a habit to check whenever she stepped into the apartment. It was to here that she tiptoed now, crouching low and moving as swiftly as she dared. _

_Someone was picking the lock to her front door. Someone was trying to break into her home. _

_This thought and it alone circled through her mind as she tucked herself against the wall. She could hear her heart thumping in her ear, powerfully aware of its rhythm within her chest. As she heard the lock click open, she began to realise that she was afraid. She lived alone; she could have been sleeping, dead to the world. She had been warned, warned that this city was not like the one she had left behind, that its souls were braver and the arm of the law not long enough to reach them all. _

_Her heart was beating so fast, so hard. Her throat was dry, and she was trembling. She heard the handle turn, the creak of the door as it was pushed open softened by the patience of the one who stood behind it. She swallowed, clenching down on her teeth. Her jaw tightened until it began to ache. Adrenaline surged through her as the door was pushed shut. She heard footsteps approaching, light and careful. She moved the moment an arm swung into view. _

_She was swift and ruthless. Fear sharpened the instinct to fight, to survive. Her left hand closed around a wrist. Her right crashed into a cheek. The man reeled, staggering. He cried out when her wrist rotated. She pulled his arm behind his back. Twisted hard. Her fingers were at the back of his neck, curling like claws. She took his feet out from underneath him, driving him to the floor. She had a knee pressed into his back and the side of his face pressed into the floorboards._

_"My shoulder! Please –"_

_"What are you?" she hissed vehemently. "A thief or a murderer?"_

_"No. No! I'm only –"_

_"Liar," she cut across him. _

_The pressure she exerted upon the man's arm grew without her full realisation. He gasped harshly, and were it not for the words he spoke next, she would have harmed him._

_"Avatar Korra, please!"_

_She reeled, eyes widening. "What did you call me?"_

_"We know," the man said quickly, his eyes shimmering with pain. "We know, we know. Oh please, my shoulder –"_

_"How do you know?" she demanded. "Who are you?"_

_"I'm an operative, of the Dai Li –"_

_"The Dai Li doesn't exist anymore," she said, eyes narrowing. "King Kuei saw to that."_

_"Publicly," the man gasped, "to appease the people after the war. But in truth, the Dai Li was reformed, repurposed –"_

_"And now you break into the homes of women in broad daylight."_

_"I was told you wouldn't be here. We've been keeping track of your daily routine," the man explained, his voice trembling as her grip held fast._

_"Then I guess it's good to be unpredictable. Now, why are you here?"_

_"A letter. I was supposed to leave a letter for you."_

_"Where is it?"_

_"My pocket. Inside my coat."_

_Korra deliberated for a moment, eyes hard upon the man as he winced. Her heart was no longer beating so furiously now that she had established control over the situation. Instead, she now spared a thought to wonder whether she should trust this man's words. Only one other person in the city knew who she really was, and he had been made to swear secrecy. But she knew the history of Ba Sing Se, courtesy of many, many lessons. She was aware of the reach and influence the Dai Li maintained during and prior to the Hundred Year War. Her mouth a thin line, Korra pulled the supposed operative to his feet. She did not loosen her grip._

_"Give me the letter," she told him._

_With his free hand, he slowly reached into his coat and removed a small envelope from his pocket. At her instruction, he tossed it forwards so that it dropped onto the foot of her bed. She turned him towards the door afterwards._

_"You will speak my name to no one, understand?"_

_The man nodded quickly, grimacing as she pushed him forward. When they reached the front door, she carefully reached around him and pulled it open._

_"And tell your master never to attempt this again. I won't be so forgiving." _

_She shoved him roughly out into the corridor, slamming the door shut in his wake. _

_Strength seemed to fade from her legs as silence settled upon the apartment. She felt the wall at her back as she leaned into it. She wrapped her arms around her body as she slumped and found herself sliding down towards the floor. She sat there and gazed blankly ahead, too many thoughts stirring within her mind, and things she did not want to see taking shape before her eyes. Inexplicably, the desire to cry rose up from within her. _

_The tears came, rolling down her cheeks in silence. She had stoppered them for months. She had not cried when Naga passed away; she was angry, angry for so many reasons, and behind that wall did she store her sorrow. But now that wall crumbled, because she was reminded that Naga had been her closest friend, her comfort and her protection. She would never feel her warm fur again, or her wet snout and tongue upon her cheek. She would never again hear Naga's contented rumble, or the fierce baying that was all she knew as she lay dazed upon ice and snow stained scarlet._

_She wished for arms about her, to hold her tight, and for a voice to tell her that she was safe now. She wanted to sit there and cry and tremble against his chest. But she couldn't do that. He wasn't here. She was alone. But she was no stranger to that. She had been alone for thirteen long years of her life. She was strong, capable and could handle herself. And, she then realised, opening her eyes and softly brushing away her tears, perhaps she was not quite so alone._

_Korra pushed herself up onto her feet, walking over to her bed. On the right hand side, where she had been sitting in meditation, was a small brown table. She picked up the scarf that lay pooled atop it. It was soft and warm around her neck, and only after she put it on did she turn to face the letter._

* * *

_It was early, and the city had not yet fully opened its eyes. Yet she was awake and aware, sitting at the top of the bed, the headboard against her back. Her eyes were turned to the right, gazing out of the window. The letter sat upon the table beside her, its contents the reason she had woken so early. It was also part of the reason she had not slept well. It reminded her of the letters she had written, and of the responses she never received._

_Something bothered Korra after she penned and sent off that first letter. She knew that her voice, her real voice, was absent from it. She lay awake beneath thick bearskin quilts, over and again recalling the words she had written. With each day, she could see with greater clarity how cold and lifeless they were. She was unsure of the nature of the relationship that existed for her and Mako, but she worried that her letter would only help make things more confusing between them. And so, after several weeks of agonising over its contents, she wrote another._

_Had Mako seen it, had he clutched that letter in his hands, he would have recognised her voice, recognised the warmth and personality of the woman he knew so well. But it never reached him. The ways and means of the White Lotus to get messages to and from their various outposts across the world were not infallible._

_Korra waited; Mako had not replied to her first letter – a contributing factor to her writing the second. But he did not reply to that one either._

_She did not know what to think. Her heart was aching with loneliness, with a growing sense of rejection that she found more difficult to ignore as each long day passed her by. She was confused. She had spent so many hours crafting that second letter, making him privy to her true thoughts and feelings. She did not understand his silence. She was worried. She was upset. She was angry. She embraced that emotion, her anger. She held onto it, and its fire persisted for months. It was with anger that she wrote the third letter._

_In the moment, Korra did not care whether or not he cared. She told herself that she was not writing the letter to illicit a response from him. She could not answer why else she would be writing it. She did not leave the South Pole immediately. She lingered for almost two weeks, her hope slowly growing vain. _

_He had nothing to say to her. _

_In her unconsciousness, Korra dreamt of him, and her dreams did little to soothe her. Mako would stand at her bedside, arms folded and unsmiling, saying not a word. She would reach up to him and whisper his name. He would gaze down at her, silent._

_Korra decided that she would travel to Ba Sing Se, the city having been on her mind for several weeks. It was along the way that she penned her last letter, sending it on its way when the boat stopped mid-journey at a port she did not know to refuel and restock its supplies. She didn't know for certain where she would be staying when she arrived in Ba Sing Se, and so could leave no address for Mako in the hope that he would this time reply. All that she could hope was that he would believe the words she had written in earnest. All she could hope for was that his heart had not grown cold. She would not write to him again, because she knew not what else she could say. _

_Korra closed her eyes as she lifted her hands to her face, focusing on her breathing, slow and measured, so that she would not cry. She had to believe; Mako had given her his scarf for a reason. After a long moment, she carefully pushed those thoughts away, turning her focus to the day ahead, to the contents of the letter. The springs of the bed groaned as she swung her legs out over its side and stood to her feet._

_The bathroom, small and simple, was the only other room that the apartment possessed. She washed, scrubbing away her weariness before padding back into the main room and moving over to her wardrobe. Korra pulled on the clothes that almost seemed to serve as a uniform whilst she had been living in Republic City. Among its populace, she would not have been an irregular sight, but here in the Lower Ring things were different. It was part of the reason the letter had proposed such an early meeting. She would be leaving her home whilst there were very few eyes about to spy her._

_Before donning her dark grey jacket, she stepped back into the bathroom to fix her hair in front of the mirror. It was longer than it had been at any other point in her life, falling beyond her shoulders and reaching her back. She had spent a lot of time catching up with her mother, engaging in the more feminine activities she had disregarded for the majority of her years. Both Senna and Katara fashioned her hair into styles that more often than not bewildered her. She did find the twin braids that her mother favoured comfortable though._

_Taking up a brush, she spent a few minutes teasing out knots and tangles that had formed during her restless night. She had to wonder as she watched herself in the mirror. The Korra of several years ago would never have had the patience for this. She really did look different with her hair down, she thought to herself. More relaxed, despite how she presently felt, and more at ease with herself as she gave a small smile. Perhaps that was the reason Mako liked it so._

_When she was ready to leave, Korra picked up her keys and his scarf. She wound the latter around her neck and tucked the keys back into her pocket after she pulled the front door shut and locked it. Upon her return from the meeting, she would pester her landlord for several days to have her locks changed. When he procrastinated, she would pay out of her own pocket more than she could reasonably afford to have someone else come in and change it for her. That man would comment on the poor quality of the lock, and she would only hum her reply._

_She left the building, its heavy doors clicking shut behind her, and took up a purposeful stride, hands tucked into her pockets. The early morning air was crisp and cool, though it would soon begin to warm up. There were not too many cars on the road yet, but that only meant those which were could unmistakeably be heard coming. The unrefined grumble of the small, boxy vehicle that passed her by as she walked down the street grated on her ears. The thick fumes it left clinging to the air as it turned a corner and disappeared from sight left her grimacing._

_The streets of the morning were almost an entirely different entity. They would later be choked beneath swaths of people, and the air hazy with fading grey smoke. For now, however, they were quiet, almost peaceful. Korra shared the walkpath with few others, mostly native citizens though she did recognise the features of several Fire Nation men and women. People heralding from the Water Tribe were a less common sight, and she could go several days without seeing another with tan skin and bright blue eyes like hers. It was a strange and slightly disconcerting thing for her, having grown up around her people and even living in Republic City, whose population was notably diverse, to be suddenly alone. She stood out here in Ba Sing Se, but there was little she could do about it._

_After roughly half an hour, she came upon Noble Street. She had been instructed to look out for a black Riven, supposedly waiting in front of a watchmaker's shop for her. She had only been living in the city for two months, and her priority was certainly not to learn the different makes of the vehicles its populace was driving. Korra could barely tell the difference between a Robin and a Riven, only certain that both made a lot of noise and did little to sweeten the air. As luck would have it, there was more than one black car presently parked up along the side of the road. She frowned and instead turned her eyes to find the watchmaker._

_When she came upon it, peering through the glass of the shop's façade, she then turned her head to the car parked against the kerb. The man sitting at the front had his attention apparently fixed upon a newspaper spread open across the steering wheel. She stood there and stared at him through the passenger's window. Eventually, he glanced away from the newspaper, only for a second. His lips twitched. Korra's gaze turned skyward as she gave a sigh. She tugged open the rear door of the car and got inside._

_"I shouldn't be surprised, should I?" Korra said, pulling the door shut. "I'm going to assume you haven't exchanged the White Lotus for the Dai Li." _

_"No. But we have been keeping tabs on their activities since your arrival in the city," the man replied as the Riven's engine coughed to life and he pulled away from the kerb. "We thought we could keep your identity a secret for longer than this, but…"_

_Folding her arms, Korra turned her eyes to the window. "The only person who knows who I really am is Chief Shen. I was told that he owed the White Lotus a great enough debt to guarantee his silence."_

_"He is a man of the Earth Kingdom first. We did not anticipate the Dai Li tracking him down this quickly."_

_Korra sighed heavily. "I shouldn't be surprised," she said again. "It was silly to place so much faith in this charade."_

_"All is not lost," the man said. "The White Lotus has been in contact with the Dai Li. We assured them that your intentions are harmless. They only wish to speak with you personally."_

_Korra was silent for a moment, watching the gradually larger and grander buildings pass by._

_"I see," she said. "So you're here to make me feel more comfortable about all this?"_

_She heard his smile when he replied. "In a fashion, ma'am."_

_Korra shook her head, but she was smiling too._

_It was not long before the Lower Ring truly transitioned into the Middle Ring, and the difference was remarkable, so much so that Korra could feel it even in the quality of the road. The car was jolted about by ruts and a general unevenness of the surface much less, running noticeably more smoothly. Green was the dominant colour that met her gaze as she looked out the window, a plethora of hues stretching across the roofs of buildings that stood straight and strong. _

_Sashes were curved around the waists and over the shoulders of those that had risen with the sun, yellow and gold against garments of olive green and russet brown. She saw men with trousers of muted beige, the material puffy and flaring outwards at the ankle. Jackets embroidered with gold thread often curved to accommodate a rounded figure, wide cuffs shaken back as hands were clasped in morning greeting. The women wore dresses Korra did not think she had laid her gaze upon before, their colours so vibrant it almost served to leave her eyes aching. They were flowing and elegant, a single piece of shimmering fabric that left the arms bare almost up to the shoulder and sometimes trailed so low as to conceal the ankles, all the while subtly highlighting the feminine form beneath._

_It was strange to Korra that unlike its cousin, the Middle Ring possessed a decidedly traditional atmosphere. The colours of the streets seemed to meld together with purpose; the Lower Ring was a mishmash of hues and shades pulled from all the far flung corners of the world. She glanced down at herself, appraising her clothes. Knowing that she was coming to the Middle Ring and knowing its history (thanks to many, many lessons), she had donned something more formal. However, her colours were only going to ensure that she stuck out all the more. She restrained a sigh of annoyance with some difficulty._

_After several more minutes passed in a wash of vibrant, complimentary colour, they pulled up outside of a moderately large house. The tiles of the sloping roof were a darker shade of green, and a ridge of burnished gold ran centrally along its length. A short, narrow path led towards the house proper, lined with neatly trimmed shrubbery on either side. The street was quiet once the rumble of the Riven's engine died out, and Korra thought that she could hear the sound of running water afar off as she pushed open the door and stepped out onto the walkpath. She glanced aside as the driver's door opened and the familiar man emerged to stand at her shoulder._

_"I'll be waiting for you here," he said to her._

_"Thank you," Korra replied, though she then frowned. "Don't get used to this. I'm not here to live the same life."_

_"I understand, ma'am."_

_If he were wearing a hat, she was sure he would have tipped it to her._

* * *

The backroom of the shop was small and cluttered, the muted sounds of ticking an irregular rhythm upon the air. At a table tucked away in the corner of the room sat a young woman, her eyes focused upon the watch that lay in front of her. It was an interesting little thing, she thought, for it was designed so that the body was partially transparent, allowing one a glimpse into the intricate inner workings of the device. However, there was no movement for her to be hypnotised by, for the watch was broken. The watchmaker had given it to her, and just like on the first day that she had sat in this rickety old chair, having at last agreed to teach her, asked her: "How does it work?"

Well, of course, she didn't know. She most certainly was not a watchmaker. However, the man had said nothing else to her. She watched him leave the room with something of a bemused expression, and then she decided to humour him. She had plenty of time; she was not in a rush.

She did not remember how long she sat there staring at the watch, extending her senses beyond her physical form to touch and tease and explore. She could not answer the watchmaker's question that first day, or during the next week, or for several afterwards. But she was both patient and intrigued. The near silence of the room and the mental acuity she needed to focus upon the watch allowed her to develop a state that was akin to meditation. As she began to settle into it, understanding slowly came to her.

Sometimes the watchmaker would observe the young woman, standing at the doorway with his arms folded over his paunch and his eyepiece sitting at his brow, watching as her hand made strange movements. She would pass it over the watch time and again, sometimes with an expression of expectancy, at other times curiosity. But the watch would lie unperturbed. Still, the watchmaker would nod, apparently satisfied. She was learning; they both knew it. It was not long before things began to fall into place.

The watch rattled upon the desk as the young woman positioned her hand over it. It began to break apart under the direction of her will, gently disassembling with soft clicks as each piece rose up into the air. She manipulated each of them, from the greatest to the smallest, until they formed a structure that was in the likeness of a tower, each corresponding piece hovering in place slightly above the other. And then she sat back against the chair, brow creasing in contemplation.

The watchmaker had never made it a point to teach her the exact terminology of his profession, rather he encouraged her to simply develop an intimate feel for each of the components, and to do that she was required to learn how they whispered, how they murmured, how they groaned and how they sang. Upon the first hearing of their voice, she had latched on and learned quickly.

There were footsteps behind her then, and she felt and heard the floorboards creak beneath the weight of the man that came to stand at her shoulder.

"Well then, what needs fixin'?"

After a long, thoughtful moment, she lifted her right hand and pointed into the hovering tower of components.

"This is the one causing the trouble," she said, looking up at him.

The watchmaker frowned, deep lines etching themselves into his brow. His face was round and soft, almost always tinged a pale shade of pink. He made a gesturing motion with a pair of fingers and the piece she had pointed out emerged from the tower, slotting itself neatly into the grip of his tweezers. The man slipped his eyepiece down over his eye and examined the component. The young woman turned her gaze back to the others. She rotated her wrist, fingers twitching, and the tower crumbled, each of the pieces that had composed it instead floating freely in the air as they slowly revolved around an invisible axis.

If one was to ask her favourite element, she would reply that it was fire, but even so earth was the one with which she intrinsically felt most compatible. It was the element she had grasped the quickest, the one that had simply clicked. She left her earthbending tutor astounded, for she mastered within two years that which had taken every other one of his students several more. So it was that when she decided to learn metalbending, more as a pastime than anything else, she progressed at what knowledgeable individuals would recognise as a dizzying pace. The watchmaker did not shower her with praise however; in fact, his manner of complementing her would have irritated the girl she had once been to tears.

"You might make a half decent watchmaker yet," the man said gruffly, lifting the eyepiece to sit upon his brow once more. "Unlike my son."

"Perhaps it isn't for everyone," the young woman said gently.

The watchmaker waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, well. They told me you weren't the most patient of students, girl. I'm surprised you're still here."

"Did they really tell you that?" she asked, an eyebrow raised as she looked up at him.

"Yes. Quietly," he replied, releasing the once troublesome component from the grip of the tweezers. It floated towards the nebula of pieces rotating through the air, slipping into place as it was transferred from his influence to hers. "As I understand it, they've watched you train. I suppose that gives their warning some credence."

The young woman shook her head at his response. "I might have given you trouble a few years ago. You hardly teach."

"Yet you learned."

She gave a small smile. "Yet I learned."

Turning her hand once more, the pieces began to move purposefully through the air, stacking on top of one another to again form the hovering tower. With her palm turned to face the desk, she made a downward gesture with her fingers. Interlocking with a series of soft clicks, the components settled back into their designated positions within the case of the watch. After a moment, its ticking punctuated the silence that had formed between them.

"I don't have much else to teach you," the man sighed. "I never claimed to be a master. If I didn't know your reasons, I'd be asking why the hell you'd come to me."

"Mastering it wasn't my priority," the young woman said, "I just wanted to see if I could do it."

"Hmm. Well, I'd say you're well on your way," the watchmaker said, folding his arms. "Coming back here would just be a waste of your time."

"You wouldn't mind me popping in now and then, would you?" she said, pushing the chair back and rising to her feet.

"Don't tempt me. I might employ you, and then I definitely wouldn't be keeping my mouth shut."

She chuckled. "Well, either way you have my thanks, for _teaching_ me, and for keeping your word."

The man leaned down and retrieved the watch, clutching its worn leather strap between his fingers.

"You'd be surprised by how many families are in debt to the White Lotus. They saved my father's life during the war. Think nothing of what I've done, ma'am."

The young woman could not help but laugh in surprise at the term with which he addressed her. She had been 'girl' for the past year. She paused when he held the mended watch out to her, raising her eyes to him questioningly.

"Doesn't this belong to a customer?"

The watchmaker shook his head. "It was my father's."

"I can't accept that," she said at once.

The man laughed, gesturing around them. "You're standing in a room full of my father's watches. Take it."

She frowned, and then after a moment lifted her arm. She pushed back the cuff of her jacket and allowed him to wrap the watch around her wrist.

"Thank you," she said, once she brought her eyes up to meet his.

The man waved his hand dismissively. They both turned as the jingle of a bell out in the main shop signalled another customer.


	13. Chapter 13

Up.

The muscles of her arms bunched, biceps glistening with a sheen of sweat.

Down.

She exhaled as she lowered herself, clenching her teeth as pain rippled through her limbs.

Up...

Spirits, it hurt, but she had just one more rep left.

Down...

Her arms were trembling, begging her to stop. She ignored their desperate plea.

_Up. _

Her lips split open and she gave a strangled grunt of effort. A fiery ache tore through her arms as she hauled herself up, her chin gradually rising above the cold steel of the bar. She hated the part that came next.

_Down._

She lowered herself as slowly as she could, keeping her arms tensed throughout the motion. She could feel the tightness of the muscles of her back as she fought to preserve her form. Eventually, and in what seemed to be the passing of an eternity, her arms straightened out, her feet dangling just above the floor.

She released the bar and dropped down heavily, breathing hard as she settled her hands at her hips. Her grey tank top clung to her body, sticky with perspiration. Wincing pre-emptively as she curved an arm behind her head, Asami lifted the long tail of her hair and draped it over her shoulder. Her neck was warm and slick with sweat.

She moved over to a bench, picking up the cream towel draped over the end of a long silver bar sitting in its rack. Patting her face and brow, Asami looked up towards the small rectangular window set into the wall that faced the street. Splintered rays of light filtered through the grime and the metal grill that encompassed it. If she squinted through the dust clinging to the glass, she could almost discern the blur of dark shapes that passed by. But she had left it dirty for a reason. As she could not properly look out and see the street, so its curious inhabitants could not look in and see anything more than her blurred, indistinct form. If they chose to look at all.

The basement apartment was small, its walls cold and thin. Asami could hear the clanking of pipes within them, and the noise of the street beyond, the constant murmur of hurried footsteps and the dull drone of passing cars, kept her company. Yet, she liked it. For her it was peaceable, a place no one knew existed.

Two years after taking over as the CEO of Future Industries, with both the company's and her own personal financial position uncertain, she had finally made the decision to sell off the Sato Estate, namely the mansion. Asami agreed to a shared ownership proposal offered to her by the United Council and, under the name of her company, retained possession of the test-driving facility as well as her father's once secret workshop – once it had been thoroughly cleared and searched by the Police.

Selling what she had known for her entire life as home was difficult, but for Asami it had become tainted beyond what she could any longer bear. She could no longer walk the lengthy, elaborately decorated corridors without thinking of her father, and such thoughts would always inevitably lead to her mother. No matter to where she turned, she was reminded of loss, of deception, of pain, and of death. Her mother had passed from this life, and Asami considered Hiroshi Sato dead just the same. As she stepped up to the position of CEO and took the reins of Future Industries, she wanted something that she could call her own, a mark made upon the world that was undeniably hers.

Her venture into the property market was somewhat accidental. After selling her home, Asami sought another. She wanted a place that was in the city proper, both so that she could taste and begin to understand the daily lives of the hundreds of employees working under her, and to be closer to Future Industries' facilities in the southern region of the city. Her search culminated in an apartment building, eighteen storeys tall, called New Autumn Haven. Asami wanted an apartment on one of the upper floors, and was impressed with its features and the cityscape view it would offer. However, the owner of the building stolidly refused her. He did not want the stigma that was attached to her name to befall his property.

Asami swiftly grew tired of the slander of her company and family name. She was neither Hiroshi Sato's daughter nor his pet; she was her own woman. She was not a shadow, a failure waiting to happen. She could stand on her own two feet and forge her own path. She had learned long ago and quickly how to deal with the barbs of questioning journalists, men and women with swift, sharp tongues who thought themselves clever and she naïve. They too were learning, albeit slowly: push Asami Sato too far and she would almost certainly push back.

The owner of the apartment building answered warily when she asked him for the value of the property. He stuttered and rambled inanely when she calmly produced her chequebook. Soon enough, New Autumn Haven fell directly under her ownership.

As the papers were signed and the proceedings made official, Asami remained composed, her expression indicating that this was nothing more than business as usual. But inside, she was smiling. Over the next four years as the financial circumstance of her company stabilised, Asami bought a second, larger apartment building and had recently begun to draft plans for the construction of her own, her intention to offer affordable housing to Future Industries' employees within reasonable proximity of its facilities.

Standing to her feet, Asami left the towel dangling over her right shoulder and turned to leave the room, threading her way through the equipment. There was no door, and directly across from the improvised gym was another room, one she sometimes drily thought of as an office. This room did possess a door, one that would be triple locked in her absence. She stepped inside, out of habit pushing the door half closed behind her.

The space was small and square, for the most part occupied by a desk, its dull grey surface patchy beneath sheets of paper large and small. Asami passed between the edge and a wall, settling herself into the tall chair with an audible sigh and the sound of leather conforming to her shape. She could feel her sweatpants sticking to her thighs and the sensation was less than pleasant, but she ignored it for the time being. After a long moment of merely enjoying the comfort of the chair, she sat forward, frowning slightly as she looked over the papers in front of her. They were designs, drafts, and blueprints, nearly all of them drawn up by the hand of Hiroshi Sato.

Asami had learned to suppress the feelings that attempted to overtake her as she looked upon his work, as she unconsciously likened the manner of his handwriting to her own, from the small flick of the wrist that brought an end to the character 我 to the rigidly straight, single dark line that erased an imperfect word or idea. Those were the few similarities that still remained between them. Asami had been redeveloping her style of handwriting for years, patiently and persistently. She wanted as little as possible to provide as a connection to or reminder of him. But each day that she looked upon these papers, Asami felt the underlying hypocrisy of that desire.

He had certainly been busy, crafting the Equalists' armoury, and Asami could not help but admire the breadth of his ingenuity. She did not possess the same brand of inventive prowess, but what she did have was a quick thinking mind that could appreciate detail and develop a wealth of applications for the technology that was put before her. What lay before her now were weapons, tools designed to both put the Equalists on the same footing as benders and to surpass them.

Asami had been considering them for months.

She found them whilst clearing out the rooms of the mansion, determining what should be kept or thrown away, what could benefit a charity or hospice, and what ought to be turned in to the Police. Surely these papers deserved the latter fate, but Asami held onto them, knowing not why. Now, she thought that she had found a purpose for them, a worthy purpose. But…

Asami leaned back against the chair, turning her gaze down to the trio of drawers stowed along the right hand side. She contemplated them for a moment before pulling open the first. She reached inside, seeming to steel herself as her fingers took hold of charcoal grey fabric. She eventually lifted the object into the air. She laid it out carefully upon the desk, meeting its empty golden gaze. She had once fought fiercely against the men and women who donned this mask and pledged themselves to the destruction of Republic City. Now she was considering donning it herself. But her reasons, she reminded herself, were different.

Asami had been pondering this course of action for the past week – for many weeks, in fact. At times she was upon the brink of making the choice, and at others she questioned her sanity. It was not her place, certainly not her duty, she told herself, but all her attempts to go through official channels led to dead ends and dropped investigations. The Avatar had upped and vanished without a word of warning more than two years ago, and in the wake of her absence the souls of the city were growing braver by the day. There were rumours quickly spreading that the problems Republic City was facing were the work of her own hand.

Asami rested the back of her head against the chair, puffing air between her lips as she regarded the ceiling. Her thoughts turned to Bolin, lying in a quiet, sterile room in Republic Central Hospital with a broken arm and leg. She grimaced up at the dusty rounded light bulb, remembering clearly the look of despair upon his brother's face. She had not expected them to target Bolin, but now she could see the naivety of that line of thought. There was little fear of repercussions these days. Asami saw with ever growing clarity that the Police could or would not challenge the Triple Threats upon their streets. And the reach of their influence was growing, pushing towards the southern region of the city.

Asami turned her eyes down to the desk, once more regarding the mask. She had eyes and ears in places where they did not belong. There were a pair of hands around the neck of the city, slowly and secretly suffocating it. For this then, she had been preparing, for weeks and months training her body and mind. But always she was uncertain.

_I'm just one woman, and I'm not the Avatar._

But when she was needed, the Avatar was nowhere to be found.

Things seemed to slowly turn sour as Korra's absence became more apparent. If the rumours were to be believed, the state Republic City was steadily deteriorating into was almost entirely her fault. If the Avatar saw fit to run away and leave the city in the mess she had created, Asami thought, then surely it was time for them all to stop looking to the horizon for her return. Such an empty promise would not solve their problems, nor protect those the manipulative, emboldened few sought to prey upon. She reached forward, eyes narrowing as she fingered the dark fabric of the mask.

"Small steps," Asami said quietly, steeling herself. "Small steps."

* * *

_She tapped her thumb lightly upon the edge of the steering wheel, waiting for the lights to turn green. Her leather driving gloves were smooth upon her skin as she kept her right hand poised over the gear stick. Her eyes were pointed ahead, thin grey fumes curling into the air from the exhaust pipe of the Satomobile in front. Her thoughts were not fully in the present however, Asami internally reviewing her last meeting of the day._

_Future Industries was continually seeking to strengthen its relationship with the Police Force, and it had recently come to her attention that they were renegotiating a contract concerning the development and production of equipment for its metalbending department. At present, and for the past five years, the Police contracted the services of Red Sun Technologies in that regard. Asami remembered all too well the quiet, mounting sense of despair that fell upon her company when, in the wake of the exposure of Hiroshi Sato's connections with the extremist Equalist movement, clients had begun cutting ties with Future Industries._

_She worked hard to re-establish faith and trust in the company once more. There were many long days and longer nights, but she was committed and determined. Try as she might however, she was not able to win back the business of the Police, who had once contracted Future Industries almost exclusively to produce for them in numerous areas. In her more clear-minded moments, Asami could understand its unwillingness. The media had not yet tired of insinuating, subtly of course, that links still remained between Future Industries and Equalist extremism. Things had begun to change almost two years ago, however._

_She was approached directly, and quietly, by the United Council and the recently reinstated Chief of Police, Lin Beifong. The manner of the meeting that played out between them served to arouse suspicious curiosity within Asami, but she forced herself to quell those thoughts, instead focusing upon the matters of more immediate concern. _

_Lin Beifong expressed the desire to repair the relationship between Future Industries and the Police Force, which had turned mostly to depend upon Red Sun Technologies whilst under the leadership of Chief Saikhan. The Council assured her that they were in full support of Beifong's intentions, and that they would help facilitate and move along the renegotiation of contracts between the Police and Red Sun Technologies. Asami burned with questions, but as she sat there listening to their words and reading their expressions, she gathered the sense that she was expected to remain wilfully ignorant. They did not think she was blind or stupid; they trusted that she was intelligent enough to focus on the hand held out to her, not the one hidden behind their backs._

_Future Industries was in a delicate position within the industry and amongst its competitors. Asami did not fail to understand how much she needed this. Red Sun Technologies, however, was determined to oppose her. Rarely did a renegotiation of contract go smoothly._

_Asami started when she heard the fierce blare of a horn. Her eyes darted across to see that the lights had changed to green, and that the car in front of her was pulling away. She threw the gear stick forward and pushed down on the accelerator pedal, releasing the clutch. She smoothly moved forward into the intersection, turning right towards downtown Republic City. _

_Her journey home took her past Central City Station, which was not necessarily required, but she had made it a habit. She drew inspiration from the towering figure that stood at the heart of the plaza, a bright, strong flame perpetually burning in the cup of his palm, his arm thrust high into the air. It was a flame that was meant to guide, a gesture meant to bring hope and courage. Asami had been in desperate need of those things when she took up the reins of Future Industries. She stepped into a position she did not fully understand, and knew that she had little time to learn. And she had to do so alone, her closest and few friends all but disappearing from her side as she devoted herself to saving the company. _

_She kept the monument of the former Firelord in her sight even as she approached a right turn, her eyes upon her wing mirror. Eventually, the plaza disappeared behind a row of buildings, windows glowing orange as night settled upon the city. Asami was used to the route, used to the surroundings and the sound and feel of the car around her. She was settled back against her seat, easing the sleek saloon along the relatively quiet road. Asami was more often than not one of the last to leave the office. She was well attuned with the Republic City of the night._

_Something caught her eye as she drew to a stop in front of another set of lights. She saw a man walking down the street past her car, almost seeming to be swaddled in his long brown overcoat, a thick black briefcase held in his right hand. Asami recognised his face when he turned to glance over his shoulder. He conducted secretarial work if she remembered correctly, working in the department of Hideo Satoshi, her administrative director. She did not recall the young man's name, though she had conversed briefly with him in the past. Merely a hello, good morning and how do you do, but she felt that it was important that she communicate with as many of her employees as possible, no matter their station. She could not afford to embody sentiments of superiority._

_What gave her pause was the expression of the man when he looked over his shoulder, and then his hurried stride as he rounded the corner. As the lights began to transition towards green, Asami saw a pair of men walking side by side, the hands of the one closest to the road pushed casually into the pockets of his coat, both wearing the shadow of a smirk upon their expression. Asami frowned; she immediately did not like the look of them. Pulling away from the lights, she coasted around the corner. _

_She kept her gaze on her wing mirror as she slowly moved forwards down the street. When the young man next glanced behind him, the two men tailing him were practically on top of him. Startled, he stumbled in surprise, and one of the men clasped a hand to his shoulder. The car jolted to a halt as Asami saw them pull him into an alley. She stared at the mirror, disbelieving. _

_Her eyes widened and heart thumping in her chest, Asami swallowed the lump in her throat. There was a part of her that told her to continue driving, to push what she had just seen from her mind and forget she had ever witnessed it. It was most certainly not her business. She, as Asami Sato and head of Future Industries, did not need to be getting herself into an altercation in the middle of the night when no one knew where she was. This was not several years ago, when she had gone into battle fully knowing what to expect and with three very capable friends and benders at her back, she reminded herself. And yet her hand had moved to find the key, twisting and killing the soft purr of the engine. Her other found and pulled on the door handle._

_As she stepped out into the night, she was glad that she was wearing low heels. In the next moment, Asami wondered why she had immediately categorised that as an advantage; she was not looking for a fight. It did little good to tell herself so, however. She could feel her muscles tensing, her body coiling in preparation to spring. Her eyes had become almost too good at reading a situation, an expression, a subtle curve of the mouth or flitting of the gaze. Inwardly, she cursed herself. Outwardly, she lifted a gloved hand to tuck her hair securely behind an ear, mouth tight._

_Her footsteps were too loud as she walked towards the dark entrance of the alley. Asami was sure they would hear her coming. She could hear them as she approached._

_"…keeping up with your payments, are you?"_

_"Look, I – I'm sorry, I will –"_

_"You know how the game works. We're patient men, generally. But you've pushed us a little too far."_

_"As soon as I can, I promise –"_

_Asami pressed herself against the wall at the edge of the alley's entrance, grimacing as a pained grunt met her ear. _

_"Excuses won't get you by this time." _

_"Please. Please!"_

_Asami winced as she heard the thump of a fist sinking into flesh. It was a sound she could not mistake. She briefly pressed her eyes closed as she heard it again and again, punctuated by the muted cries of the young man. Her stomach tightened as she heard struggling, feet scraping across the floor and the sound of a coat being dragged along the wall. Was she just going to stand here and let this happen? The pounding of her heart and a whispering voice were telling Asami to turn away. What could she do?_

_Her fingers curled into a fist, stretching the leather of her gloves over her knuckles. She could fight. She had been trained to defend herself since the age of seven. Some things one would never forget. She would feel a little better about what she was planning to do if she had an electroshock glove on her person, however._

_Clenching her teeth, Asami pushed away from the wall and turned the corner. She wasted no time with introductions. It would be folly to give up her element of surprise. One of the men began to turn in her direction as the rapid staccato of her heels filled the alley._

* * *

_"Show me a kick."_

_The young woman frowned at the man. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, expression plain and unreadable._

_"There's a point to this, I hope."_

_"There is. Show me."_

_The young woman sighed quietly, mentally shaking her head. She struck up her stance, right fist close to her chin, left foot leading. She inhaled and then moved, turning her hips to provide power to the strike. Her grounded foot pivoted as she threw her right leg into the air and leaned backwards, preserving her balance. The man's eyes glanced upwards, the point of her toes reaching high enough to clear his head. He grunted as she lowered her leg, his expression failing to change._

_"Again."_

_She obliged him. The man's eyes turned upwards once more to track the height of her kick. When she lowered her foot to the ground, he spoke._

_"What is the purpose of that kick?"_

_The young woman's brow furrowed at the question. "It's a strike aimed for the head. If I hit you cleanly, you'll be out cold."_

_"I see," the man said, and then, "show me."_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"Strike," he told her, widening his stance so that his feet were separated by a shoulder's width._

_The young woman arched an eyebrow. "You want me to hit you?"_

_"Yes."_

_She gave a tired, defeated shrug even as she took up her stance once more. "You're sure."_

_"Do it."_

_She moved before he had finished speaking. Her leg swept up through the air towards the man in a blur of motion. He moved as though he had been expecting it. The young woman blinked in surprise as he caught her leg before it could strike him. Faster than she could react, his posture shifted, left foot pivoting as his hips turned, lifting his right leg. His foot slammed into her left leg just below the knee. Startled, her eyes widened as her leg was taken clean out from under her. She dropped like a stone, and her knee struck the floor._

_Bright light popped in front of her eyes as pain tore through her limb. The young woman cried out as the white-hot blade twisted in her flesh, reaching the bone._

_"Shit! My leg. My leg!"_

_"Pain is a greater teacher than I," the man said calmly, crouching down beside her. "What have you learned?"_

_She could not even glare murder at him. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she hissed her reply._

_"What the hell are you – damned Spirits, it hurts!"_

_The man turned away for a moment, reaching behind him. He pulled a small metal basin around to stand in front of him, and she was dimly aware of the sound of water sloshing around inside._

_"What have you learned?" he asked again._

_"I don't know what you're –"_

_"What. Have. You. Learned?" the man growled, his hand shooting down and tightly gripping her knee. The young woman gave a shout, her hand upon his wrist as she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain._

_"The kick," she gasped, unable to pry his fingers away, "something about the kick!"_

_The man's grip loosened. "Indeed." _

_The young woman opened her eyes, feeling moisture escape them to trace a path down her cheek. The man's gaze was hard upon her, his mouth a rigid line. _

_"A kick is a powerful tool," he said, "stronger than a punch, and with more reach than the arm. But what you cannot forget is that it is slower than both of those things. The higher you kick," he continued, lifting his hand through the air to indicate different levels, "the slower your strike, the more time I have to see it coming and," he tapped her knee lightly, "the harder you will be punished."_

_She swallowed and nodded._

_The man stared at her for a long moment, gaze unwavering, and then he dipped his hands into the basin of water._

_"Sit up," he told her. "I will heal you, this time. Do not let there be a next time."_

_She would never aim a kick above the waist again._

* * *

Jian checked his mirrors before pulling on the steering wheel, turning the Satomobile right into the parking lot beneath the apartment building. His mind was already travelling forward several minutes, imagining the pleasant aromas of the authentic roast his wife had promised him for dinner. It had been a long, hard day. Jian felt the stiff knots of tension in his neck and shoulders, reminded of the dull ache with each turn of the steering wheel. He had already decided upon running himself a hot bath before settling in for an early night.

Passing between the thick concrete pillars that marked the entrance, Jian exchanged the steadily darkening streets for the patchy light and relative silence of the parking lot. Several of the overhanging discs of light were either flickering at the ends of their lifespan, or permanently dark. Jian manoeuvred towards his usual spot, which lay a short distance from the door that led to the apartment building's rear stairwell.

His wife did not like his parking in the lot or use of the rear stairwell at night. They had been living here for five years and were no stranger to the news of robberies and the kinds of dealing that one pretended not to see and quickly walked on by. Jian, however, was something of a believer in luck. At least, that was what he told his wife. He would rather her chagrin than her anger and fear. The truth was that part of Jian's monthly wage paid for their protection from certain misfortune.

The Dragon Flats was not the prettiest place in which to live. The undercurrents of criminal activity that had always seemed to exist within its streets blossomed both during and after the Equalist revolution. In recent years, it had become a hotbed for triad activity in particular, and it was almost common knowledge to the citizens of the borough – if not the city – which triad held the largest sway. Jian was approached by the men three years ago, and presented with an offer he would have been unwise to refuse. While it was true that he was being given more reason to fear for the safety of his family by the day it seemed, the cost of protecting them did little to ease their already delicate financial circumstance. And that cost was increasing.

Jian pulled up into the bay, turning off the engine once he had parked. The headlights flickered out of existence. He retrieved his coat and briefcase from the passenger's seat, afterwards pushing his door open and stepping out of the car. Three rows of parking bays stood between him and the door that led to the rear stairwell. Jian thought he spotted an Accord as he made his way across the lot, threading through closely parked cars. He wondered who the lucky individual was. The ownership of an Accord was not a particularly cheap alternative to the Satomobile, and in this area of the city people were more likely to be driving a Cabbage Car. He paused in his stride then as the doors were thrown open.

Three men stepped out into the parking lot.

Jian was certain his heart skipped a beat as he saw them. He suddenly wished he had a shot of strong liquor to hand. He tasted no courage upon the stale air as he swallowed. Perhaps they weren't here for him, he thought for a moment, even as three pairs of eyes fastened onto him. Perhaps they were here for someone else, some other man who had been untimely with his recent payments, some other husband and father who missed his last payment altogether to put food on the table and clothe his children.

"Jian. Just the man we're looking for."

In no time at all, they had surrounded him, a man to his left and right as he felt the cold bonnet of a Cabbage Car against the back of his legs. The man in front of him, his eyes darkened by the shadow of a fedora's brim, had his hands tucked into his pockets. Jian could not match the casual ease with which the men around him stood. His gaze flitted to either side of him, but thoughts of making a break for the stairwell door, or even calling for help, were far from his mind.

"Sir," he began, lifting his hand in a placating gesture, "I'll be able to pay soon."

The men usually smiled and laughed at the term of address he used for them. He had found out early on that it was only beneficial to have them in a good mood, to stroke their egos and raise them up onto a pedestal to stand above him. However, not one of them smiled as he spoke. He received the ghost of a smirk from the shorter man to his right.

"By soon, I hope you mean within the next five minutes."

He swallowed and all but whispered. "No, sir, I…I can't right now. I haven't been paid yet. My family –"

"You know, you weren't too bad of a client, Jian. Rare to find a man these days who knows how to show respect where it's due," the man in front of him said, unsmiling. "It's just a shame you decided to test our patience."

"You have to understand, I have a family to support."

"And we protect your interests," spoke the man to his left, the shoulders beneath his brown jacket wide. "That's fair, isn't it?"

Anger slipped into his voice as he replied. "You've been demanding more of me month after month. I've been telling you that it's difficult –"

The man in front of him moved and Jian fell silent.

"You know what to do then, don't you? You're a sensible man," he said, thumb and forefinger carefully tracing the edge of Jian's lapel. "There are a lot of men in your position, Jian, and they've been sensible, too."

"I can't afford to leave my job."

The man's hand paused. "There's a lot of things you can't afford it seems. We've been thinking; perhaps it's time we make ourselves a little better understood."

Jian heard the whistle of metal. He saw the glint of silver in the corner of his gaze. The man to his right drew the pocketknife, holding it in a deft grip. Jian was suddenly aware that his brow and nape were moist with sweat as he turned his gaze.

"Wait. Wait, please," he spoke quickly, attempting to lean away as the man wielding the blade stepped towards him. A rough grip suddenly closed around his throat, shoving him down onto the bonnet of the car. His briefcase slipped from his hand, crashing to the ground. The big man to his left grabbed his wrist as he tried to flail. Jian cried out in panic, kicking wildly as the two men held him down and he turned to the third. The silver blade of the knife was being bathed in a soft orange flame. The man's lips curved, his smile sadistic.

"What should we take?" he asked, moving forwards, "your finger, or our money?"

"Take nothing."

Something emerged from the darkness behind them in a blur of speed. The man wielding the knife and flame had barely turned before the shadow was upon him. A gloved hand shot forwards, clasping the wrist of the man's right arm. The arm of his assailant curved around his throat as the two spun about to face the other triad men. Jian saw clearly their startled expressions, their grip upon him loosening in surprise.

Giving a strangled shout, the man blindly unleashed a burst of flame over his shoulder. The assailant, garbed in mottled grey and black, pulled their head to the side. The flames flickered and died as the man cried out in pain. The grip upon the wrist of his knife hand twisted hard. The man's voice was choked into silence as the blade clattered to the ground.

Jian felt the hands of the men release him suddenly, the larger of them dragging him off the bonnet and tossing him to the ground. A boot was placed to the small of the back of the limp, semi-conscious firebender. Jian ducked his head as the man's body was launched forward, crashing into the front end of the Cabbage Car. The sound of flesh wetly meeting steel churned Jian's stomach. The firebender slid off the end of the bonnet and flopped to the ground. Jian felt his hands begin to tremble. Blood ran from the man's head to his cheek, thick and red. He looked up as he heard a cold, furious promise.

"You're fucking _dead._"

The sound of scuffling footsteps reached his ear, and a few moments later Jian dared to lift his head. What he saw stole away his powers of thought. The assailant, garbed in black and grey – his saviour, wore the mask of an equalist.

The Equalist surged towards the two men. One of them had reached into his jacket, producing a silver hip flask. The other stepped into the Equalist's path, right arm swinging with a fierce growl. The Equalist pulled up short, leaning away at the last moment. The man's fist was like a brick tossed through the air, grazing the cloth of a cheek. The man overextended as he failed to hit his target, momentum throwing him off balance. The Equalist slammed the sole of a boot to the back of the man's knee, delivering a vicious backhand to the jaw when he stumbled. The sound of the impact was blunt and heavy. The man was sent reeling to the ground.

His companion tore the lid off the hip flask, water bursting from its innards. He thrust his hand forward, snarling murder. The whip sang as it tore through the air, striking the Equalist just below the right armpit. It hit with enough force to kick the Equalist's arm backwards, their body violently turned aside. The man hissed as the Equalist staggered only momentarily, belatedly taking note of the segmented body armour that curved around their torso and looped over their shoulders. The Equalist stumbled only briefly before regaining balance. A moment later, they were upon him. There was no time to manipulate the water again – the man swung his fist instead.

The Equalist blocked with a raised forearm, the man's wrist slamming into a vambrace. The Equalist's arm snaked forwards as the man grunted, sliding over his forearm and then curving behind his elbow. The man found his hand trapped beneath the Equalist's armpit, and in the next moment pain stole his thoughts away. The Equalist pulled hard against the direction of the joint, tearing a scream from the man's lips.

"Kill this fucker!" he gasped.

The Equalist turned swiftly as his companion found his feet and bullrushed towards them. A gloved right hand lowered to the thick grey utility belt wrapped around their waist, smoothly removing a small, black object from its holster. A single finger slipped into a rounded gap cut into its lower edge and pulled on a flattened, crescent shaped trigger. Something was launched from the end of the device, miniscule and dark and moving faster than thought. The approaching man crumpled suddenly, inexplicably. Even before he hit the ground, he was convulsing. His eyes rolled, limbs splayed out all around him as he violently shook. The Equalist turned without waiting to see his fate, slamming an elbow into the jaw of the last remaining man.

Jian watched him fold and fall in a heap to the ground as the Equalist released him. Failing to breathe, he watched the convulsing man until his shaking finally ceased. When it did, Jian stared in disbelief. The man was still conscious. He groaned weakly, trembling in his entirety. The Equalist crouched over him. A fist jabbed out and robbed the man of his senses. Silence was finally permitted to settle over the parking lot. Jian neither blinked nor breathed as the Equalist turned to find him. He did not know whether he ought to feel deathly afraid or incredibly lucky.

"I'm not a bender!" he almost squeaked as the Equalist took a step towards him. His words seemed to give them pause. A moment later however, they strode over to him and held out a hand. Jian swallowed, contemplating it carefully. He looked up into the golden, bulbous eyes of the Equalist's mask before he eventually lifted his own hand. He was pulled to his feet as though he weighed as much as a child.

"Call the Police, quickly," the Equalist spoke then, releasing his hand and already beginning to turn away.

Jian opened his mouth but said nothing, instead tilting his head in confusion. The voice of the Equalist was raspy, almost mechanical, but it was undeniably feminine. He turned his widened eyes to the three unconscious forms lying on the ground as she walked away.

"You're an equalist," he blurted out, calling after her.

"Get out of here," she returned, and then the Equalist became a shadow once more.


	14. Chapter 14

Mako glanced frequently to the sheet of paper lying on the table next to the typewriter, practised fingers dancing across the keys of the machine. Though the report he was typing up was his own, he often paused to lean closer and puzzle out a series of letters tangled in looping scrawl. His eyebrow rose at just how scruffy his handwriting became at certain points. He reminded himself once again that it was perhaps a good idea to write his drafts a little more tidily. Then again, it was not the first time Mako had told himself that, staring perplexed at the formation of his words. He would have better luck stapling a memo to his hand.

"Three times in the space of a week. I'll say this Equalist character is doing a better job than we are."

"Better not let the boss hear you say that."

Mako glanced up and to his left as he heard the voices. Two of his colleagues stood lounging against the edge of a desk, the third sitting on the opposite side and clearly very much distracted from her work, though by her expression she seemed to welcome it.

"Certain it's a woman, then?"

"So say the witness reports," replied the man closest to Mako. "I have a hard time believing it though."

"Three witnesses with matching descriptions," said the woman in a tired voice. "What, you don't think a woman could do what they say this 'Equalist' did?"

"I don't think there's a man or woman in this city with big enough balls to do what this lunatic is doing."

Mako's keystrokes resumed, his brow furrowing as he listened in on the conversation. It had been a week since the first report of the Equalist's actions had come to his attention, or rather that of his department. The first instance had drawn raised eyebrows and disbelieving smirks, the witness report reading like something out of a poorly written novel. It did not take even an hour for jokes to come about at said witness' expense. The incident was quietly pushed to one side. There were actual issues that were of the department's concern, like the sniff they had gotten of weapon shipments coming in from the Fire Nation.

The second instance drew a little more of a pause from Mako and his colleagues. There were the same indifferent shrugs and amused shakes of the head, but yet still very little attention was actually paid by the department as a whole. Their priority was dealing with Equalist extremism, not some supposed woman who was running around the city dressed up in costume fighting with thugs who, for all intents and purpose, deserved the beatings they apparently received. What did cause the department to finally begin to take notice of this individual was the third instance in which she had been seen. The Equalist – as they had resigned to calling her – tangled with two police officers while escaping a scene.

One of them had suffered a fractured wrist. Both testified to the fact that the Equalist appeared to be carrying weapons they had never seen before. If the Equalist bore any connections to the original organization then the fact that they had managed to slip new weapons underneath the radar was a definite cause for concern.

"Who knows," said the second man, folding his arms as he leaned against the desk. "Could be the Avatar for all we know."

The woman snorted as Mako's fingers paused in the air. "The Avatar? You think she'd run around dressed up as an equalist?"

"Why not? Sounds like a pretty good cover to me. Look – you didn't believe me the moment I said it."

"That's because it's bullshit," the woman replied calmly. "How would you explain these weapons she's apparently carrying around?"

Mako glanced up once more to see the man shrug. "She skipped town two years ago. Who's to say where she's been in that time?"

"And now she's back, cleaning up Republic City three thugs at a time."

The man who had first spoken smirked along with the woman. Their colleague frowned at them, though he did not appear to be offended. They all turned to Mako as he spoke.

"It isn't Korra."

His voice left his lips before he realised they were moving, before he could snatch back the words and bury them in his chest.

"Well, I guess none of us would know better than you, eh, Mack?"

He refrained from rolling his eyes at the nickname. It had derived from utter laziness on the part of his colleagues (His name was two syllables long; surely it wasn't that difficult).

"No, you wouldn't," he replied shortly, turning back to the typewriter.

"Mm," came the sound of agreement. "You're the one on a first name basis with the Avatar, after all."

Mako sighed, briefly closing his eyes against the teasing grins of his colleagues.

_"Hey, Mack. There's someone downstairs asking for you. Says she's the Avatar."_

_His eyes snapped up from the folder in front of him. "Korra?"_

_The man's grin was wide. "Oh, using each other's names now, are we?"_

_Mako wanted to smack himself in the face with the folder clutched in his hands._

His argument that they were merely friends – good friends – did not last long. Korra had inadvertently, or perhaps intentionally he would later think, seen to that. Several of his colleagues followed him down to the reception. He was very much aware of them, murmuring and snickering like children at his back. When he entered the reception, there was Korra, sitting on one of the plastic blue chairs waiting for him. After a long, monotonous day, the sight of her, effortlessly gorgeous and utterly at ease with herself, tugged at the corners of his lips. She realised his presence and turned, eyes bright and smile warm.

_"Hey, babe," Korra said, finding her feet. He met her hand as she approached him, and she leaned forward to touch her lips to his cheek. "You finish up soon, right?"_

_Mako nodded as she drew away, feeling the unfamiliar heat of embarrassment rising to his face. _

_"You didn't tell me you were coming by," he said, stroking his thumb along the back of her hand.  
_

_She smiled. "I've had the worst day. I figured I should tell you all about it."_

_Mako laughed, a little awkwardly. He was sure he could feel the eyes of his colleagues on his back._

_"How about coffee?" he suggested. "I know a decent place."_

_"That sounds good," Korra replied, and then she seemed to glance behind him._

That was when he felt several pats on the back and shoulder. Korra had grinned, utterly unashamed when one of his colleagues passed by and casually muttered "Lucky bastard."

"Never did tell us why the Avatar left the city, Mack," said a voice, bringing him back to the present.

"I don't know why," he said, keeping his expression plain as he turned to resume typing.

There was a short laugh of disbelief. "She didn't tell you anything?"

"Not a thing."

"And you don't know where she went either."

"No."

"Huh. Where'd you go wrong, Mack? You let a catch like that slip through your fingers?"

"Alright, boys," interrupted the woman. "I'm sure you've got better things to be doing."

Mako was glad the men took the hint. They looked between him and their female colleague, the taller of the two shrugging before they both moved away, talking conspiratorially between themselves. The cold fingers clenching his chest loosened as silence settled around him, punctuated only by the tapping of his fingers upon the typewriter.

"Mako," the woman spoke quietly, "you alright?"

He looked up after a moment, producing an empty smile. "Just fine," he replied. The smile did not linger as he turned back to his work.

What if Korra _was_ the Equalist? What if she _had_ returned to the city? What if she were walking its streets as he sat in their – his apartment, alone and awake throughout the night? They were thoughts he did not want to consider, possibilities he did not want to lay upon his bed for hours upon end pondering. He took them and pushed them far, far to the back of his mind. He focused upon the drumming of his keystrokes, noting belatedly the numerous mistakes that had beaten themselves into the sheet of paper in front of him.

The hours passed by in their slow, uneventful way. Mako hardly looked up from the typewriter, the sound of his typing punctuating the murmurs of conversation and intermittent ringing and answering of telephones around him. Towards five o'clock, as he shook back his sleeve to glance at his watch, Mako lifted his eyes and glanced carefully around the room. Upon ensuring no one was within earshot, he reached for the telephone at the right hand side of the desk. Pulling it over to himself and displacing several papers in the process, Mako began dialling in a number from memory. He listened to the dial tone for a few moments before a female voice answered.

"Good afternoon. This is Future Industries, Ms. Sato's office. How may I help you?"

"Hello, I'm Mako, a friend of Asami's. Would I be able to speak to her?"

"I'll just find out if she's available. One moment, please."

Mako waited, hearing a slight buzzing overlapping the silence on the other end of the line. Eventually, the secretary's voice returned.

"She can speak with you now. I'll just put you through."

"Thanks," he said, and then a few moments later, he heard a new voice.

"Mako, this is a pleasant surprise."

"Hi, Asami," he replied. "I haven't caught you at a bad time, have I?"

"No, your timing is pretty good actually. How are you?"

"I'm okay. Slow day in the office. How about you?"

"Not too long ago came out of another meeting, though I'd rather not bore you with details. I suppose slow day in the office would work for me too."

Mako gave a small chuckle. He cast his eyes about before he spoke again, keeping his voice low.

"I was planning on visiting Bolin after work," he began, pausing for a moment. "I was just calling to see if you'd like to come along?"

"One second…sure. Conveniently, my diary is fairly light today. Your timing _is_ pretty good."

"Great," Mako said, giving perhaps the first genuine smile of the day. "Should I meet you there or…?"

"I can come by and pick you up, if you'd like."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"It isn't. You should learn how to drive, Mako. I'd happily exchange that motorcycle of yours for a Satomobile."

He laughed. "I'll consider it," he told her.

After they decided on the time, Mako set down the telephone, pushing it back to its corner. Again his gaze flitted about the room, and he saw several eyes glance towards him curiously. He turned back to the typewriter, stretching his fingers before he set them back to work. Try as he might, however, Mako could not help the slight smile that rose to his lips. He later left the office in a better mood than the one he had begun the day with.

* * *

They entered Bolin's room bearing fruit and gifts, and Asami chuckled when his eyes fell to the brown paper bag Mako produced from his coat.

"Bless the Spirits. Real food!"

"Please tell the world, Bo," Mako said tonelessly as Asami pushed the door shut behind them. "It's not like we almost got caught sneaking these things in for you."

Bolin's grin lit up the drab room as they approached his bedside.

"How did you even get this past reception?" he asked, left arm already reaching out for the bag.

"Well, the receptionist was male," Mako said, handing it to his eager brother, "and Asami has a particular brand of charm."

As though on cue, she tossed her lustrous, raven locks, her hair unbound and spilling down her back. Plum red lips took on a subtle pout, her shimmering green eyes hooded ever so slightly. Mako smiled, shaking his head at the look on his brother's face, Bolin's hand paused in the air halfway between his mouth and the bag of dumplings.

"Yeah. That's not fair," he said, recovering at last.

"Isn't, is it?" Mako agreed, pulling two chairs up to the bed. He took the bowl of fruit Asami passed to him, setting it down on Bolin's bedside table. "Did I tell you she did that after blindsiding me? All those thoughts I was getting ready to yell – _poof._"

"Goodness, Mako," Asami said, sweeping her long black skirt beneath her legs as she took her seat, "you still remember that?"

"People tend to remember mopeds crashing into them," he deadpanned, sitting next to her.

Asami crossed her right leg neatly over her left, settling her hands into her lap. "And I was so certain I'd made it up to you."

"Mm. You did," Mako said, glancing across at her. "I don't think I've had a meal that good since."

She smiled. "So, how are you feeling, Bolin?"

"Like I haven't had a decent bite in years," he replied thickly. "I wouldn't recommend hospital food to my worst enemy."

"It's a sad day when you of all people are complaining about free meals," Mako said.

His brother shrugged as best as he could. "Either that or I complain to you about these casts. They're dry and itchy and by the Spirits I want them gone."

Mako grimaced. "You'll have to suffer them, Bo. Doctor says you might be in here for a while."

Bolin rolled his eyes, pushing the last of the dumplings into his mouth. "I'd be fine with that, if there were things to do besides lie here and stare at the four walls. I can't expect you guys to come and entertain me every day. You're busy enough. Speaking of," he remarked, his gaze falling on Asami, "how are things going with the project?"

"Well enough," she replied. "We miss you and your expertise, of course. Everyone wishes you a swift recovery."

"Mm. So do I," he said. "Maybe you could bring around a few documents for me to look over? Would keep me somewhat occupied."

"I'll see what I can do," Asami promised.

"Great," he said. His smile returned as he balled up the emptied paper bag, tossing it into the small wastebin sitting in the corner of the room. "Oh, and before I forgot, Asami, it's this one's birthday next week," he said, pointing at his brother.

Mako paused halfway in bringing an apple to his mouth. Asami turned to him, eyebrow raised and smile slowly forming.

"Oh really."

"Yup," Bolin said, ignoring his brother's frown. "I took a guess and assumed that he wouldn't have told you."

"No he did not," Asami confirmed.

"Predictable. Well anyway, usually we hang out together," Bolin said, gesturing casually as the crunch of an apple punctuated Mako's silence, "but as I'm confined to this room, you'll have to do the honours for me."

"I'd be happy to," Asami said, patting Mako lightly on the thigh. "I know a few places. We'll have some fun."

Mako said nothing in reply. The smile he offered her was fleeting, and as he turned to his brother it was difficult to restrain himself from wiping the satisfied smirk off his face. Bolin met his gaze fearlessly, and Mako read in his soft green eyes a plea, one that he was all too familiar with hearing.

_"You have to live your life, bro. Put the past behind you, please."_

It was he who looked away first. He couldn't; he couldn't just forget and move on.

He and Asami spent close to two hours with Bolin. After they had said their goodbyes, Asami reaffirming her promise to bring him documents to look over when he reminded her, they walked together back to the car park. Mako, with his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes upon the ground, stopped along the way.

"Asami," he said, drawing her attention. She turned, not realising he had paused, her hands similarly pushed into the pockets of her grey overcoat. "Can I get you a coffee or something? As a way of saying thanks."

"You don't have to do that, Mako."

"All the same, I'd like to."

A smile curved her lips as she walked back over to him. "Alright then, I'd like that. Where did you have in mind?"

"I know a decent place," he replied.

He took her to a café on Riverstone Street, a roughly twenty minute walk from the hospital that would have taken five or so had they driven. Asami mentioned that she wouldn't mind stretching her legs when she suggested they walk to the café instead. When Mako asked about leaving the car in the hospital's car park, she merely shrugged. They would be back soon enough, Asami said, unless Mako was planning on treating her to dinner and a movie too.

The journey there was sprinkled with conversation. Asami received second and sometimes third glances along the way, and Mako wondered if people were recognising her as Future Industries' CEO or were simply taken by her looks. Asami herself seemed oblivious to the attention she was receiving, however Mako thought that by this point in her life, she was familiar with it. He did not know how she could seem so comfortable with it though. He had been hoping the entire time that not a single one of his colleagues was about to spy him. He was certain he would not hear the end of it.

He pushed open the door of the café and let her through ahead of him. When they moved over to a small table for two set against the wall, he did not sit until he had drawn out her chair and she did. Asami could not help but chuckle.

"Ever the gentleman," she commented as Mako lowered himself to his seat.

"Old habits," he said, shrugging.

"Good habits," Asami replied. "Don't let them die."

A few minutes later, their coffee cups sitting in front of them on slim, pale saucers, Mako looked up, for a moment watching Asami lightly sprinkle her cappuccino with cocoa powder.

"Thanks for coming with me," he said. "I'm not the best company for Bolin when I have to see him like that."

"You don't need to thank me, Mako," she said, meeting his eyes. "I'd like to think we're friends again. I could do with a few."

"I would've thought people would flock to you," he remarked.

Asami shook her head. "I have many acquaintances, who I know well enough. You know what I am, Mako. I have to be careful who I let myself get close to. In my line of work, there are few genuine people."

Mako paused, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "I could do with a friend too," he said. "Not a lot of people I'd sit down to coffee with like this."

Asami laughed. "You almost make it sound like a business deal. Should we shake and make it official?"

In the spirit of the mood, Mako offered his hand. Asami tutted playfully, bringing her right up to meet his.

"Any terms of contract I should know about?" she asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Nothing I can think of at the moment," he replied, her hand soft and warm against his.

Asami shook her head as they let go of one another, laughing softly. She winced a moment later, her left hand moving across to lightly massage a circle just below her shoulder.

"I'm alright," she answered his questioning gaze. "I've been test driving a new Satomobile model. Took a turn too fast and shook myself up a little. It's fine."

"I completely forgot you owned a test track," Mako said, concern gradually melting away from his face.

"I wasn't going to let that slip out of my hands," Asami replied after taking a sip of her coffee. "If I had more time on my hands and less things to worry about, I'd almost certainly be getting into the professional racing scene."

A thought occurred to him then. "I remember reading that you were selling off the mansion a few years ago. Where do you live now? If you don't mind my asking," he added.

"It's fine," she said, leaning back against her chair. "Do you know West Slate Road?"

Mako nodded.

"There's an apartment building there, called New Autumn Haven. That's where I am," she told him. "I'll let the receptionist know to send you up if you decide to come calling."

"How far up?" Mako asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Somewhere near the top floor," Asami said, smiling.

"I'm surprised you don't have a penthouse suite on the roof," Mako quipped, lowering a hand to his cup.

"I could if I wanted it," Asami said, taking another casual sip of her cappuccino. "I own the building, after all."

Mako stared at the milky froth of his coffee for a few moments before turning his eyes up to her. She was smiling against the edge of her cup. In the end, Mako whistled, loud enough to draw brief glances.

"Why am I not surprised?"

Asami shrugged.

Mako sat forwards after a moment, arms leaning against the table. "So, how about that Satomobile?"

"Would you like it by the end of the day, or early tomorrow morning? I can give you private driving lessons if you like."

Mako laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "You're something else," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Not too bad yourself," Asami replied, and then she gave a brief pause. "Your brother's right, you know."

"Bolin?" Mako said, glancing up. "About what?"

"A smile suits you well."

It felt good too, to smile and laugh. To be free of the miry clay that was his pain and loneliness.

So he smiled some more.


	15. Chapter 15

Gan blinked awake, making a sound that was halfway between a groan and a yawn as he brought his hand to his face. He rubbed sleep from the corners of his eyes, opening them afterwards to glance over to his left. A glance was all that was required. Hana had already woken and left the bed. Turning his gaze up to the ceiling, he laid the back of his hand upon his brow, the sound of movement in the kitchen below gradually becoming clearer. He could picture her well enough. She would move swiftly and precisely, never a moment or movement wasted, no matter the task at hand.

Gan contemplated whether he should stay in bed and enjoy a few more minutes of peace and comfort, or go downstairs and greet his wife before she departed from the house as silently as a ghost, a mere note left in her absence. At the back of his mind, Gan knew there was little merit to be had in the latter option. Nevertheless, he found himself pushing back the covers, dropping his legs over the edge of the bed to blindly seek out his slippers. A yawn racked his form as he shuffled over to the curtains, closing his eyes with a sigh of resignation as harsh golden light spilled into the room.

Dressed in only a thin cotton shirt and a pair of grey shorts, Gan stepped out of the bedroom onto the landing and headed for the bathroom. Their six year old daughter's room lay between the two, and Gan quietly pushed open the door to look in on her. She was very much tucked into bed, the cream covers bunched around her small form as high as her shoulders. A doll lay askew upon the pillow, threatening to fall to the floor entirely if the girl so much as turned. Gan briefly stepped into the room and moved the doll to sit on the window sill with her sisters, friends and cousins. Akiko was quite fond of her little family.

Looking down at her sleeping form, blissful oblivious to the world, brought to Gan a small smile he knew would not last the morning. No doubt she was enjoying another fanciful dream, one she would later share with her father and wonder why the details did not enthral him as it did her. Gan sometimes dreamed too, of a past that had long since shrivelled and withered to dust. Of the woman he had fallen in love with and married. He could once think of nothing else but her, and could hardly utter a word without her name waiting on the tip of his tongue. But that was then. The manner in which she entered his thoughts now was entirely different.

Gan asked himself why, as he splashed cold water onto his face and regarded the mirror above the basin, why he thought this day would be any different. He knew that it would not be and yet he could not disregard the vain hope that, perhaps today, things would change.

"Morning," he said as he stepped into the kitchen. Her back was to him as she busied herself at the sink, washing up and drying the dishes that had been left overnight. She was already dressed for work, a seam running down the length of her trousers, jacket smooth and fitted to her form, epaulettes symmetrical and bearing the insignia of her rank. Her cap lay on the table, and Gan glanced to it just before she spoke.

"You're up," Hana said, not turning to him.

"Yeah," Gan said, picking up the cap and turning it in his hands. A familiar silence began to stretch between them. Gan frowned slightly as he considered his wife's back.

Her hair fell just shy of the base of her neck, black and straight. Gan remembered when it had been long, almost a lifetime ago it seemed. Long, soft and shimmering. He loved to comb his fingers through it, to feel each lock glide along his skin. A lifetime ago, he might have stolen up behind her, announcing his presence with arms curved around her waist and the nestling of his chin upon the crook of her shoulder, murmuring sweet nothings along with his morning greeting. He would not dare do that now. He did not know if he even wanted to.

"Going in early?"

"Yes," Hana replied, placing the last of the dishes upon the rack to dry. "I have some papers that need sorting."

She turned, finding him standing beside the kitchen table as her hands quickly and thoroughly dried themselves upon a patterned tea towel. In silence their eyes met, cool grey upon mild brown. Gan tapped her cap lightly against his palm as he turned his gaze away, pointing it to the table as he drew out one of the chairs.

"Okay," he said as he sat down.

"Are you getting Akiko up on time after I leave?" Hana asked plainly, folding her arms as she regarded him.

"Yes. Why?"

"And she's getting to school on time."

"Yes," Gan said again, frowning.

"She's been late twice this week," Hana told him.

"How would you know?" Gan said, a little more roughly than he intended.

"My sister picks Akiko up from school, you remember. They tell her, and she informs me."

Gan looked up at his wife, his mouth tight. "I don't see how her being a few minutes late once or twice is an issue."

"If you're dropping her off late, it means you're getting into work late. I don't appreciate tardiness."

"For goodness' sake, Hana. Our lives don't begin and end in that damn building."

"Perhaps I should start taking Akiko to school myself if you can't handle it," his wife replied tonelessly.

The table rattled as Gan dropped his hand onto its surface. "Must we do this every single day, Hana? Can't we just have one, just _one_ day where we get along?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps upon the stairs turned both their gazes to the open door. Their daughter's face appeared between the thin columns of the banister, her small form shrouded in pink cotton. She rubbed at her eyes more with the sleeve of her pyjamas than her fingers.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

Gan released a quiet, restrained breath. As he stood to his feet, he left Hana's cap on the table, moving through the door and over to the bottom of the stairs. He scooped Akiko up, settling her against his hip as she looped her arms around his neck.

"What are you doing up, sweetie?" he murmured, kissing her brow.

"I was dreaming and I heard voices," she replied, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. "They were loud."

Gan glanced at his wife as she appeared at the kitchen door, cap tucked under her arm. She did not return his gaze as she stepped forward and brushed the child's hair away from her eyes.

"We're sorry, darling," she said gently. "Daddy and I didn't mean to wake you."

Akiko took her hand away from her face and seemed to take in her mother's appearance.

"Are you leaving already, mommy?"

Hana nodded. "Yes. I have a lot of work to do, Akiko."

"Oh," their daughter said.

"Have a good day at school, okay?" Hana said, kissing her cheek. "And behave yourself, or I'll find out."

Akiko nodded. "Yes mommy."

Only then did his wife turn to him.

"Make sure she gets in on time," Hana told him bluntly.

"Right," Gan said, and that was all.

She turned away, making for the front door. Their daughter lifted her arm and waved enthusiastically, sending her mother off with a loud and innocent goodbye. Gan said nothing when she half turned to return Akiko's wave. He did not have the energy to attempt to feign a smile. Why bother when she did not even look at him?

"Well," Gan said, regarding his daughter when the door was pulled shut, "let's get you back to bed. You don't need to be up just yet."

Akiko shook her head. "I'm not tired."

"You will be later."

She shook her head again. "I won't."

Gan sighed, taking a step up onto the stairs. "Then how about we sit on your bed and you can tell me all about your dream."

The child nodded even as she yawned. "Okay."

* * *

Five rows of tables and chairs occupied the small room, and Gan was sitting near the end of the fourth towards the wall. The room was humming with the low murmur of conversation, Gan's fellow officers filing inside and finding their seats. His elbow was resting on the back of the empty chair beside him, a notepad and pen lying on the table in front of him next to his cap. He was familiar with the man who claimed the seat to his left, but Gan did not feel in much of a mood to make conversation beyond a polite greeting. He managed his expression, producing a thin smile when he met the gazes of others.

Soon, the apparent last of the officers made their way to their seats and Gan glanced up at the clock sitting on the wall above the speaker's podium. The man sitting at the edge of the foremost row was beginning to find his feet, collecting a number of papers into his hands. Gan frowned slightly as the man approached the podium, his eyes glancing towards the door. It was pushed open again a few moments later, and Serra stepped into the room. Her thick brown hair was tied into somewhat of an untidy knot at the back of her head, and Gan could see her pulling at the hem of her jacket, straightening out creases as she approached the team leader. With her cap tucked under her arm and a notepad grasped in hand, he watched her mutter a few words to the man, no doubt of apology.

After ducking her head to whatever his reply might have been, Serra turned to face the room. Gan made a small gesture as she scanned it, afterwards lifting his arm away from the back of the chair as she found and made her way towards him. Muttering her apologies as she squeezed between the back of chairs and the table behind them, she eventually dropped into the seat next to him, laying her notepad and cap on the table.

"Thanks," she whispered as the team leader cleared his throat and the hum of conversation dried up. Gan merely shrugged and smiled.

The briefing began with a short introduction from the team leader, which involved the distribution of the thin folders he had brought up to the podium with him to the group. Serra was one of the three women in the room, and the only individual that did not herald from either the Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation.

Gan often wondered how she managed to cope so well with that fact. She was, to put it bluntly he thought, out of place. Distinguishable immediately within a crowd by the tone of her skin and the colours he saw her wear outside of work. He knew colleagues of Fire Nation birth who had been living in Ba Sing Se for longer than her but still possessed an air of uncertainty about themselves, as though they had one foot in either land and were unsure of their identity because of it. Serra though…Gan quickly came to admire the sense of presence she seemed to carry, a confidence in herself that was neither arrogance nor ignorance. She seemed more comfortable with her surroundings than other foreign men and women with far more years of experience living in the city under their belts.

The sound of folders being flipped open and papers turned filled the room as the team leader gave a brief pause. Gan opened his own to look upon the profile of a man he did not recognise, but whose eyes stirred something in his bowels and caused his own to narrow. There was darkness in the man's monochrome gaze, his eyes a cold and empty void. The team leader informed the officers that the man was a key member of an organisation operating a human trafficking ring in the city, and whose activities were most prominent within the Lower Ring.

In recent weeks, there had been an increase in the number of incidents involving children being snatched off the bustling streets. The local police force was re-evaluating the use of its resources in order to begin dealing with the issue. As Gan turned to another page of the folder and the team leader began discussing statistical data, he could see that the issue was already threatening to develop towards a worryingly large scale. The force's resources were not unlimited, and there were many, many more things upon which it had to also focus. His chest tightened as the briefing progressed, worry and relief melding with one another. He would have to talk to Hana about this – if she didn't already know.

The briefing moved on, the team leader addressing the numerous pairs and instructing them for the day's proceedings. Gan and Serra would be taking patrol car duties, which they had not been given for several days now. Gan generally preferred it in comparison to foot patrols, although he knew Serra preferred the reverse. He supposed it was because she was still relatively new to the city and foot patrols allowed her to get a better grasp of its environment and citizens. Gan had lived here for each of his twenty nine years however. He had certainly had his fill.

The briefing ended on a notably quiet tone. There were numerous parents among the group. Gan glanced across to his partner as the sound of chairs scraping along the ground filled the room, seeing that she wore a frown with a quality he had not seen in her expression before. He had seen her angry, annoyed, irritated, frustrated – never before had he seen Serra upset, however.

"Are you alright?" he asked as they stood to their feet, closing up the folders and collecting their notepads and caps.

"Mm," was all she replied with, her gaze failing to meet his.

Folders were handed back to the team leader on their way out of the room, and as they left it, stepping into the corridor beyond, conversation began to re-emerge from among the group as they made their way to their appointed stations for the day. Gan looked across to see that Serra did not yet appear ready to emerge from her silence.

"I'll catch up with you," she said after a minute or so. "I just need to go and tidy myself up."

Gan nodded. "Sure."

He waited in the lobby near the entrance of the building, a large, square room with the emblem of the Earth Kingdom's police force etched into the ground with green, gold and grey tiling. Several desks lined the far wall, manned for the most part by female clerks. Gan approached one and received a set of keys for one of the numerous vehicles waiting in the lot to the west side of the station. He leaned against the desk as he waited, resting an elbow upon its surface as the clerk behind it deftly balanced the bell of a listening device between her cheek and shoulder, her hands searching for a pen and paper.

There seemed to be a ripple of movement as the deputy chief stepped into the lobby, her stride brisk and posture rigid. Gan was not the only officer to straighten up as she appeared, a thick folder tucked under an arm. The set of keys, which had been lightly bouncing into the air, stilled as she passed through the room. He made no eye contact with her as she strode by, vanishing through a set of double doors.

Serra eventually emerged from those same doors, looking notably smarter in comparison to her hurried entrance into the briefing room. Her hair was tucked neatly underneath her cap, and as she approached him she picked momentarily at the cuffs of her jacket.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"Miss your alarm this morning?" he asked as they pushed through the doors and exited the building.

Serra gave a weak chuckle. "Mornings never have been my strong suit," she said. "Thanks for saving that seat for me."

Gan waved dismissively. "I wasn't saving it. I was just resting my arm there."

"Oh really. Well that was pretty convenient, then."

"Yep," he said, moving around to the driver's side as they reached their designated patrol car, the vehicle dull grey in colour and emblazoned with the organisation's insignia upon the doors.

The car rocked as they each got in, pulling the doors shut afterwards with a distinct snap. Serra removed her cap not a few moments after, leaving it to sit on the dashboard. She turned her eyes to the roof and sighed heavily as Gan slotted the key into the ignition. He turned to her before he turned it.

"Serra."

Her bright blue eyes slid across to him. "Hmm?"

"That briefing didn't sit well with you, did it?" he said

"I don't think any of us enjoyed it, Gan," she replied.

"You know what I mean."

Her hands reached forward to drum absentmindedly upon the dashboard. "I didn't have the best childhood," she said. "In fact, I never really had a childhood at all."

Gan was careful with his next words. "What was brought up in the briefing…"

"No," Serra said softly, "nothing like that. Let's just say that what was said in there reminded me of something." She shook her head after she had spoken, laughing. "Forget it, Gan. Forget I said anything. Let's get going."

He moved his hand back to the ignition after a moment. "You know, Serra, it's not the first time I've been in a briefing like that. It leaves you worrying about your friends, your family...but it's best not to let it get you down. Things like this will happen regardless of whether or not we want it to. And even if we do manage to stop it here and now, another set of bastards will simply turn up somewhere else. All we can do for certain is protect those who are closest to us."

"I don't think I've heard you be so cynical before," Serra remarked as he turned the key.

"I'm not being cynical, just realistic," Gan said as the engine rumbled to life. "I've been an officer for nearly eight years, and working in the Lower Ring at that. At some point, we all have to accept that we can't reach as far as we'd like to."

"Mm."

Gan glanced across at her. "Come on, Serra. Lighten up," he said, punching her arm. "I refuse to go out on patrol with a miserable partner. As if it wasn't already tedious enough."

She smirked, returning his punch with a light shove that almost had him scraping against the front end of a neighbouring patrol car as they pulled out of the bay. "Alright," she said, "but we're going to that noodlery along King's Avenue later."

"You're in love with place," Gan remarked, turning the car towards the exit of the lot.

Serra shifted in her seat, developing a comfortable slouch as she folded her arms.

"Your fault," she returned.

He smiled.

* * *

Gan was very much amused as he watched Serra positively attack the bowl of noodles in front of her. Whilst pushing several more thick strings into her mouth, she glanced up at him, her gaze somewhat defensive.

"What?" she remarked, chopsticks poised in the air halfway back to her bowl.

"Nothing," Gan replied casually, looking down to his own.

"The food is good," Serra said, her tone accusatory. "Don't judge me."

He spoke without looking up. "You missed breakfast too, didn't you?"

"Shut up," she grumbled.

Gan smirked, bringing his own set of chopsticks to his mouth.

Predictably, Serra finished eating before him. She sat back against the bench after leaving her chopsticks to sit in the emptied bowl, giving a soft sigh of contentment. Her cap was sitting on the table next to a clear glass of water, and she puffed audibly as a stray lock of hair fell into her eyes.

"That cap is off your head more often than on it," Gan remarked. "I'm surprised you haven't just stopped wearing it completely."

"I'd rather not be reprimanded about my uniform again," Serra said lightly, reaching towards the glass of water as she spoke. Gan blinked as, rather than taking it up to drink, his partner rested a finger against the side of the glass, her eyes focused upon it, and the clear liquid began to move apparently of its own accord, swirling slowly in a clockwise direction. She watched its movement almost thoughtfully.

"I always forget you're a waterbender," he said after a moment. "I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen you use it."

Serra shrugged. "I'm not very good at it," she said, wrapping her hand around the glass and picking it up. "I was never given the chance to learn it properly."

Gan arched an eyebrow. "You weren't tutored?"

Serra shook her head. "The Northern Water Tribe is still fairly backward when it comes to gender roles. Teaching women how to master waterbending is far from a priority there. Education for women in general still isn't much of a priority, in fact."

"Huh," Gan said, blinking in surprise at this news. "So when did you find out you could do it?"

"Fairly young, so I'm told," Serra replied, taking another sip from her glass. "Supposedly I almost drowned myself whilst bathing when my mother turned her eyes away for a few seconds. How about you and earthbending?" she asked when Gan laughed.

"Me? Hmm…somewhere between ten and eleven if I remember it right. My parents could never afford to have me complete a full apprenticeship, though. Most of what I learned was thanks to books and lots – _lots_ – of trial and error. It was slow going. Which reminds me," Gan said after finishing up the last of his noodles and gesturing towards his partner with his chopsticks, "I found that book on metalbending you were asking for. I've no idea how it'll be of use to you, though."

"I had a friend back home who studied firebending to improve his waterbending," Serra said, setting down her empty glass. "I figured I might try something similar."

"Okay," Gan said slowly, "but why metalbending?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"

"No, really. Why?"

Serra rolled her eyes as she shook back her cuff to glance at her wrist. "I like being unconventional. Are you done?" she said then, indicating his bowl.

"Yeah," he replied, frowning at the glint of gold as it disappeared beneath her jacket once more. "I didn't know you wore a watch," he said as they stood to their feet.

"I'm full of surprises," Serra replied, patting down her jacket to locate her wallet. As a waiter moved over to them, threading through several other tables and customers, Gan smoothly produced his own.

"I've got it," he said, opening it and extracting several notes.

"Gan, you really need to stop doing that," she sighed in exasperation as he paid for both of their portions.

He looked back at her, grinning. "I'm an old fashioned gentleman. I can't help myself."

"Don't turn it into a habit," Serra replied, following him out of the eatery, "otherwise you might as well just write my name on your wallet."

"We're partners," he said as they approached the patrol car, sitting against the edge of the kerb as the traffic curved around it. "Your name's already on it."

Gan chuckled when she lifted her eyes to the sky and shook her head, pulling open the passenger's door. The car rocked to either side as Serra practically tossed herself down onto the seat.

"I refuse to let you do that again," she said when he pulled his door shut, "not at least until you let me take you out and return the favour."

"Oh?" Gan said, slotting the key into place. "Sounds like a date, Serra."

"Shut up and drive," she told him.

He laughed and obliged.

* * *

"Looks like your father's here."

Akiko looked up at the sound of her aunt's voice, the picture book clutched in her hands forgotten immediately. Her aunt turned away from leaning her head forward to look down through the window, helping her tidy up the array of colouring pencils and paper that had congregated upon the small round table. Shortly after she hopped down from the wooden chair and was ushered into the hallway to put on her coat, there was heard a familiar series of knocks upon the door. Her aunt moved over to answer it as Akiko knelt on the carpet and began pushing her belongings into her bag. Zipping it up was a little tricky at first, as she managed to get a sheet of ruffled paper caught in the teeth. Akiko looked up to see her father's form standing in the doorway when the door was pulled open.

"How has she been?" he asked her aunt as he stepped inside.

"Hasn't caused any trouble," she answered.

"I'm a good girl," Akiko said proudly as her father tucked his hands beneath her armpits and lifted her into the air.

"Yes, you are. How was school?" he asked, leaning down to pick up her bag and slinging it over his left shoulder.

"It was okay," she said. Her father walked back over to the front door where her aunt was waiting. Akiko leaned forward and accepted a kiss on her cheek before bidding her goodbye.

"Thanks," Gan said to his wife's sister, his voice even and smile slight, remembering the argument he had had with Hana that morning. "We'll see you tomorrow."

The woman nodded. Her grey eyes did not linger on him long, and she turned and favoured his daughter with a brighter smile before he turned to leave.

"I've got a surprise for you," Gan said as he heard the door pushed shut behind them, footsteps echoing down the corridor.

"What is it?" Akiko asked excitedly, an arm curled around his neck.

"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise," he replied, smiling.

"That's not fair," his daughter complained, her right hand moving to search his jacket. "Where is it? Is it sweets?"

"Your mother wouldn't be happy with me if I gave you sweets," Gan said. "The surprise is in the car," he told her.

And so began the persistent interrogation as he walked down the flights of stairs with her in his arms, his sister-in-law's apartment lying on the third floor.

"You have to be patient, Akiko," Gan gently chided her as she demanded he answer her. She pouted in response and he chuckled, walking across the lobby of the building and pushing through the front doors.

"Where is it?" she asked again when he set her down onto the ground and held her hand, guiding her down the small set of steps that lay in front of the building.

"In the car," he said again, "waiting for us."

He had parked not too far from the apartment building's entrance, and Akiko pulled him after her as she swept her gaze along the road and identified their car. When they eventually reached it, Gan could only grin at the manner in which his daughter's face lit up. Akiko looked through the window of the rear door to see a woman with brown skin sitting at the back of the car.

"Serra!" she called out happily, very much eager as her father pulled open the door to get inside. Serra returned her smile and bubbly laughter, helping her to get settled and pull her seatbelt across her lap. Akiko noticed that her mother and father did not put on their own even though they insisted she did, and would not start the car until she had strapped herself in. She looked down at Serra's lap to see that she had not put on her seatbelt either.

"Serra?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to put on your seatbelt?" Akiko asked. "Mommy and daddy say you have to."

"_You_ have to," her father said as he got into the car and pulled his door shut. Serra raised a curious eyebrow as she looked across at her.

"Should I put mine on too?" she asked.

Akiko thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

"Alright then," Serra said, "but you'll have to help me out."

"Really, Serra," her father remarked from the front seat. "You're not a child."

"Ignore him," Serra told her, smiling as Akiko leaned over and helped her secure the belt. "You and me, we'll be comfortable. Your father will be bouncing around like a ball though."

Akiko laughed as her father shook his head and started the engine. She paid avid attention to Serra as they talked along the journey home. She was very fascinated by the tone of her skin. Most of the children in her class had lighter skin like her own. Her mother's skin was pale, and her father's a little darker. She had seen men and women before with brown complexions, but Serra's was deeper than theirs. Akiko had also never seen someone with blue eyes before. Serra's were bright and as blue the sky. Akiko thought they were very beautiful. She told her so the first time she had met her father's work friend. And she liked her hair too, thicker and longer than her mother's. She giggled at the way Serra's ponytail bounced and danced when she moved her head.

Most importantly, however, Serra was simply fun. More fun than her father, who was usually tired, or her mother, who was usually busy. Akiko wished the journey home would never end, because Serra seemed willing to play just about any game with her she suggested, and was very interested in hearing what she had done at school that day. Akiko told her about the badgermole she had drawn and coloured in during class, and wanted to show her the drawing. Her bag was sitting on the front seat, however, and her father did not like being distracted by her when driving.

Gan listened to the chatter at his back, wondering just what Serra's secret was. Akiko was an animated child, brimming with energy. Guilt often sunk its hooks into him when he could barely muster the patience to engage his daughter in conversation or play. Something seemed to sap his strength whenever he crossed the threshold into their home. Serra seemed able to keep up with Akiko however, despite her sudden changes in topic and loss of interest in small games. And for someone she had only met twice now, his daughter had warmed up to Serra as though she had known her for much longer. A smile formed upon his features as he listened to them, and he was glad neither of them could see it.

That smile swiftly waned as he turned the car onto their street and he saw another, small and dark and familiar, parked in front of their house.

"Mommy's home!" Akiko announced as Gan pulled up behind his wife's car. He passed a hand over his face after he removed the key from the ignition, his jaw tight with frustration. He had been planning on inviting Serra inside. Pushing open his door, he walked around the car and pulled open the door for his daughter, who had already unfastened her seatbelt.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked, affecting a light, casual tone as Akiko slid out of her seat onto the walkpath. The look on Serra's face told him plainly that she saw through it. She shook her head and gave more of a grimace than a smile.

"I think I'll wait outside."

"Come on, Serra," his daughter called suddenly, standing beside his leg and looking into the car. "I want to show you Mai!"

"Mai?" Serra repeated, an eyebrow arched.

"One of her dolls," Gan explained, afterwards instructing Akiko to open the front passenger's door and collect her bag.

"It'll only be for a few minutes," he said as Serra remained unmoved. "I'll drop you home after."

She frowned, biting her lower lip. "You know we don't get along," she said quietly. "Why can't you just get the book and –"

"Come on, Serra!"

"It'll be fine," Gan said as his daughter ran over to their front door, bag in hand and looking back at them expectantly. "She's different at home," he said, which was not exactly truthful. And somewhere at the back of his mind, he was aware that he was lying.

"Alright, Gan," she said after a long pause, exhaling in resignation.

Her stride was uncertain as she followed him from the car. His daughter reached up as they neared and took hold of Serra's hand, which surprised both of them, and secretly worried them. Serra made an excuse and detached from Akiko's grip, her hand searching within her dark jacket for pockets that were decidedly empty. Gan carefully pushed open the door, revealing an empty hallway and a quiet house, at least until Akiko happily called for her mother.

Gan grimaced as his wife emerged from the room at the end of the hallway, still dressed in her uniform. He stepped further into the house as their daughter ran forwards to greet her.

"Hello darling," Hana said, crouching down to scoop her up with her left arm. Her right was curved around a trio of folders. "I didn't think I would see you before I left."

"Where are you going?" Akiko asked, disappointment evident in her voice.

"I have to go back to work," her mother replied. "I haven't quite finished yet."

Gan saw Hana look up as Serra stepped into the house behind him and pushed the door shut. Tempered by the presence of her daughter at her hip, the cooling of Hana's gaze was subtle. Tension rippled in the air as she spoke, lowering Akiko back to the ground.

"You've brought a guest, Gan."

"Go and put away your things," he told his daughter, "and stay in your room until I call you."

"I want to show Serra Mai," she complained.

"Not now."

"But –"

"Akiko," he spoke sternly. "Not. Now."

Her face fell and she dragged her feet until she reached the stairs and began to climb them, sniffling all the way up. Hana approached them then, and her gaze seemed to grow colder with each step she took. She stood in front of them, her eyes slowly and very deliberately appraising Serra, who stood at Gan's shoulder.

"Hana," he said in a tone of warning, "we're not doing this here."

She looked to him. "What is she doing in my house?"

"Serra's here on my invitation."

"Is that so," his wife replied, slowly shifting her gaze. "And what are you here for, officer?"

Serra appeared to swallow before she spoke. "I'd appreciate it if you used my name. This isn't the police station. We're not on the clock anymore."

"You might not be," Hana said, "but I think you'll find I am still in my uniform, and so, from you, I won't tolerate anything but the appropriate degree of respect. I hope it's clear, officer, that I can very easily make your life very difficult. Am I understood?"

Gan was pained to see the tightness of Serra's jaw, and the hard look in her eyes as she met his wife's gaze.

"Yes, ma'am," she said eventually.

"Wonderful," Hana said, her smile thin. "Don't overstay your welcome. Now, excuse me."

Serra stepped aside. Hana said nothing more to her or Gan as she stepped through the front door and pulled it shut behind her. Serra bowed her head and brought her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"She's different, huh."

"I'm sorry, Serra," Gan said, lifting his hand to her arm. "I didn't think she would –"

"Just get the book and take me home, please," she spoke over him, brushing his hand away as she lowered hers. She suddenly sounded tired, as tired as he felt.

"Alright," he relented. "But Akiko will never let me hear the end of it if I don't let her show you her doll."

He waited as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Eventually, she made a gesture that he took for an 'okay', shrugging her shoulders. He called up the stairs to his daughter.

"I'll only be a minute or so," he said, looking back at Serra.

"Sure," she replied.

A small smile returned to her face as Akiko bounded down the stairs, doll in hand and eagerness written upon her features. Gan paused at the foot of the steps, stealing a moment to watch Serra.

She was beautiful when she smiled.


	16. Chapter 16

Pale golden rays filtered through the window, the sky beyond slowly regaining its vibrancy. It was quiet, very quiet, Ba Sing Se having yet to truly open its eyes. But Korra's were open. She was awake and alert, sitting comfortably slouched against the headboard with a pillow tucked behind her back. The night had been warm, and her blanket was kicked to the foot of the bed. A thin sheet reached up to her thighs, cool and light upon her skin. Her hands were sitting in her lap as she looked through the window to the city beyond, her shoulders loose, her breathing soft and languid. Korra blinked slowly and turned her eyes down towards her body.

Her left hand moved first, fingertips pulling lightly against the fabric of the cream, short sleeved vest she slept in. Moving up past her navel, her hand gradually rose to her chest. She cupped her breast, fingers spreading apart before applying a gentle, even pressure. Korra released a soft sigh as she began to knead her flesh. She focused on nothing more than the sensation of the vest's fabric rubbing against her skin. Her first and second finger began to move in towards the soft pebble that capped her breast, eventually finding and lightly trapping it between them. The movements of her hand provided a pleasant friction, and Korra tilted her head backwards and let her eyes fall.

She opened them again when she felt his touch upon her stomach, fingertips drawing slow circles upon her vest. His left arm curved around her shoulders, moving to take over from hers as he pressed himself close against the side of her body. Korra turned to face him, smiling as she met his pale gold eyes. Her gaze roved hungrily, taking in his thick, dark hair, the strong, angular line of his jaw, and the shape of his mouth as his lips curved with a promise written upon them. She could feel his weight as he leaned into her, the warmth of his flesh as he lay flush against her. Korra let her hand run along his chest, wiry curls of hair slipping through her fingers.

"Mako," she whispered.

He closed the distance between them. Their kiss was chaste and yet the taste of him lingered. Korra caught his lower lip between her teeth as he drew away, reluctant to break the contact. He chuckled low in his throat, and the sound of his voice began to spread liquid warmth through her limbs. When he leaned down to kiss her again, she felt his thumb and forefinger upon her nipple, his pressure gentle. She gasped softly as their lips met, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. Korra tried to meet it with her own, but he withdrew from the kiss once more. She made a soft noise of complaint.

"Korra," he husked, each syllable of her name wrapped in desire and setting her skin alight with a thrill. He moved forward again, but not towards her lips. He nuzzled into her hair, mouth brushing against the edge of her ear. "I need to see you," he said, and as he spoke she was melting, become utterly malleable to his will. "All of you."

The hand at her stomach moved to the hem of her vest and began to pull it upwards. Korra arched her spine, helping him, and soon it sat rolled up at her chest. His touch upon her naked skin drew from her throat a deep sigh. She felt his right hand claim her unattended breast, lightly calloused digits kneading her flesh until she hissed with delight.

"That's it," he murmured, his breath hot as he pushed air between his lips. "Do you like it, Korra? When I touch you like this?"

"I love it," she breathed.

His fingers rolled the pebbles of her chest between them and Korra closed her eyes, her back curving and pushing herself into his insistent touch. She moaned, breathless as he gathered her into him. She filled her lungs with his distinct, masculine scent, gently inhaling the subtle fusion of spices of the fragrance she had bought him for his twenty-first birthday. Her voice hitched as his fingers teased her, pinching and pulling.

"Do you know what I love?" he whispered, right hand beginning to slowly fall, tracing a downward path towards her stomach. "I love hearing you say my name. Say it for me," he said, as she felt his fingers glide past her navel.

"Mako," she murmured.

He hummed appreciatively. "That was good," he said, his hand slowly creeping lower still, tracing the upper edge of navy blue panties with his thumb and threatening to slip underneath. "But I need to hear it again. Say it, like nothing else matters."

Korra groaned his name when she felt him cup her. She tilted back her head as his hand slowly began to move. Each breath she took was audible, the fingers at her chest continuing to stoke the blossoming fire within her core. His lips were upon her throat, kissing her pulse as his hair softly tickled the underside of her jaw.

"Don't stop," she begged him, her voice heavy as the hand between her thighs began tracing her shape. "Don't stop, Mako."

"I won't," he promised, husking the words against her flesh. "I won't stop until you can't think straight, Korra. Is that what you want?"

"Yes," she answered, his mouth hot and moist against the line of her jaw. "Oh _yes_."

He raised his head, his eyes brimming with heat as they latched onto hers. "Then watch."

Korra turned her gaze to see the pale skin of his hand disappear beneath her panties. She moaned when that hand began to move, massaging her in slow, firm circles. His name began to spill from her lips in a tight, breathless groan with growing frequency. The thrum of pleasure through her form was powerful as his pace increased, and Korra begged him to kiss her as her hips rolled, to silence her before she could scream.

He denied her his mouth until the very last moment, when Korra's back arched and white light splintered a thousand times before her eyes. Her lips were pushed open by his tongue and he kissed her like never before, hard and possessive, claiming her as his own. He gave her no time to think or breathe, her only option to submit. It was dominant and intense, a kiss that split her apart and left her in pieces. Korra groaned so deeply into it that she could feel her voice rumbling at her core.

Her body trembled as she gradually came down from her high, lips peeling away from her teeth. Korra was surprised she hadn't drawn blood. Soft laughter bubbled up from her throat as she experienced small shocks of pleasure in the wake of her climax, the mingled scent of sweat and heat upon the air. Korra smiled, not yet ready to open her eyes. She imagined that Mako was still at her side, planting delicate kisses upon her face as she slowly regained her composure. She imagined that he held her, patiently waiting as she returned to her senses.

Korra eventually opened her eyes with a small smile, retrieving her hand from between her legs. She felt good, so good, her body light and free. Echoes of her fantasy remained at the corners of her mind, and she released a soft, prolonged sigh as she slowly ran her hands along her thighs. Korra knew that this blissful state would not last, but while it was there she embraced it. In the grip of her imagination and desire, she could almost feel him there with her. It was only when her heat began to fade that she would be filled once more with a painful ache, and she wished to stave off that moment for as long as possible.

Korra sat upon the bed, eyes half closed and smile lingering, until reality finally overshadowed her and she felt that familiar pang at her core.

"I miss you," she murmured softly.

Mako remained in her thoughts after she washed and dressed in the loose fitting, casual clothes she wore while at home. She wondered whether he was awake yet, in his corner of the world. She wondered if he was thinking about her.

Korra often thought about him, but merely doing so was not enough, she knew. She had not written to him in two years. She had not heard from him in almost three. What state was their relationship in? Could she even dare to think that they still shared one? His last words to her had been to brand her selfish. The last expression she had seen upon his face was one of anger.

Somewhere at the back of her mind as she strode away, Korra had expected him to come chasing after her, to beg her not to leave. And that thought drove guilt through her, cold and hard, that she should expect that of him when she pushed him away and kept him in the dark. But he had always been doing that. Mako was always there to support her, to keep her grounded, to weather the storm of her emotions, to persist and push past the walls of her stubbornness when she turned her back and refused to hear him. Until at last, when she took him for granted and demanded too much, he cracked. He had had enough, enough of her ways, her silences, her outbursts, and her selfishness.

Enough of her.

It was fear that kept Korra from running back to Republic City, to Mako, to see him face to face and say the words she had chanted so many times in her head. Fear that she had misinterpreted the meaning his scarf was intended to represent. Fear that it was not forgiveness it offered, but a farewell, that it was only meant to be a memento to what they had once shared. Korra knew that she could not handle that rejection, that it would break her more completely than the loss of her bending.

With each day that separated them, Korra understood how she needed Mako, how he was the missing piece in the jumbled puzzle that was her existence, and how little she had really shown him that she appreciated him, that she trusted him. The truth was there, plain and simple, and one day Korra simply had to square her shoulders and face it.

She had screwed up. She pushed too far and Mako had finally pushed back.

Korra brought her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, pinching hard as she squeezed her eyes shut. She hated that she had become trapped in this cycle of thought, hated herself for being afraid. She knew what she needed to do. Korra had always done what she needed to do. But for once, she simply didn't have the courage.

The need for a distraction from her thoughts grew urgent. Korra turned to the bedside table and picked up the borrowed book, afterwards sitting on the bed amongst the ruffled spread of sheets. She endeavoured to forget herself in its pages, but her thoughts inevitably returned to the man to whom her heart belonged. Korra closed her eyes when she felt them begin to sting.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.


	17. Chapter 17

His wife did not look up when he stepped into the kitchen. She kept her eyes on the papers in front of her, pen gripped just so in her hand as she transferred thoughts to ink. He said nothing himself, moving over to the sink and filling a glass with water. He raised it to his lips to briefly sip before turning, his gaze falling upon her back. She did not slouch, the line of her shoulders even. Gan took another sip of water, a larger one this time, before speaking.

"I'm going out," he said.

Hana paused to look up at the clock fastened to the wall. "It's late."

He did not agree with her perception of the time. The night was still very much young. He remained silent however, waiting. As her head dipped, Gan knew she had returned her eyes to her work, and not a moment later he heard the resumption of words being scratched out onto paper.

"Where are you going?" she said eventually.

"For a few drinks with a few friends," he replied.

"Do I know these friends?"

Gan took another sip of water. "Not very well," he said.

"I see."

Hana continued to work, and he continued to watch her back. When he had emptied the glass, he set it down in the sink, turning on the tap to rinse it out before storing it in the rack beside the basin to dry. Hana spoke up again when he made to leave the room.

"When will you be back?" his wife asked.

"Late," Gan answered as he stepped into the hallway, retrieving his coat and pushing his hand into its pockets to find his keys. "Don't wait up for me."

Hana's writing hand paused. "Fine," she said evenly.

Gan walked over to the front door without another look back. He pulled it open without another word.

* * *

He waits for her outside her building, leaning against the bonnet of the car with arms loosely folded. There is already something of a smile upon his lips. It arose the moment he left his home, in fact. He is, for the first time in hours, happy and relaxed. He can't wait to see her.

Gan has finally agreed to Serra's offer to let her take him out. He spent far too long giving her his excuses. Some were genuine, he knows, others not so much. He has known his thoughts for weeks and months now, though he has made sure to keep them to himself. Gan never lets his eyes stray when she looks at him, nor allows his tongue to rule itself and utter certain words he knows he cannot take back. He has been unsure of himself all this time, but today – tonight – he is beginning to decide that he will not hold himself back any longer.

Gan emerges from his thoughts as the doors of the apartment building are pushed open and Serra steps out onto the walkpath. He is smiling the moment he sees her. She is dressed in black and blue, the sleeves of her thin jacket casually rolled halfway up her forearms. It's a warm evening, and the zipper of her jacket is drawn no higher than her stomach. Gan quietly appreciates the swell of her chest, the light blue material of the vest Serra wears underneath the jacket curving to hug her luscious shape. Luscious…Gan tastes the word upon his tongue. It's good. He samples several more as she walks towards him.

Alluring; the way her hair falls beyond her shoulders and frames her face, unbound, thick and dark.

Exotic; the tone of her skin, like nothing he has ever seen before, dark like a delicate blend of coffee, and as smooth as its taste.

Mesmeric; her eyes, bright and blue and warm. They sparkle with humour, glimmer in fascination, trapping him whenever he meets them.

Enchanting; the sound of her voice, strong, confident and resonating with surety, surety in herself and the words she speaks.

Provocative; her smile, the tilted curve of her plump lips. It stirs something within him whenever he sees it, striking a spark that has lain cold and dying for years.

Serra; a woman like no other.

The colder his house and home grows, the more Gan yearns for her. To touch and taste and delight in all that he has yet dreamed of. As she approaches him, he notices that there is no train of red accompanying her ensemble. Somehow, this allows him to smile all the more.

Serra always wore that scarf, in the first days that he knew her. She tells Gan that it is a gift from a man she knew back home. She has never defined the relationship to him, only telling Gan that the man is important to her. She tells him that she promised to wear that scarf every day, no matter where she goes, to remind her of home. And so she does, until Gan's wife reprimands her in front of a room full of their colleagues. Serra bears the jokes made at her expense for weeks with her head held high. Soon, the jokes grow tired. Serra is a wall of resilience that refuses to break. Now, it is only Hana who remembers to remind her why she no longer wears the scarf along with her uniform.

But neither is she wearing it now.

"Are we going somewhere special?" Gan says.

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

He smiles. "You look great, Serra. You should wear your hair down more often. It suits you."

She smiles in return. "So I'm told. Thanks, Gan. Not looking too shabby yourself."

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment."

She smirks and pats him good-naturedly on the arm. "I'm no expert in the art of flattery," she says. "I probably just praised you to high heaven."

Gan likes that about her, the casual, relaxed nature she exhibits. He has never felt the need to manufacture a persona around Serra, to say things in a way that is unfamiliar to his tongue. He likes that she is straightforward, that she does not force him to unwrap layers of complexity to understand her. He enjoys her spontaneity, her enthusiasm for the things she likes, and her sassy way with words. Through eyes tinted with admiration, Gan can find no fault in the woman standing before him. Serra is beautiful, passionate, exciting.

Perfect.

Gan realises that he is smiling wide when he feels a soft ache in his cheeks, but he doesn't mind it. Serra is smiling along with him as they get into the car and the night begins.

The theatre is housed in a small building that sits on the corner of Lower Silverbridge Road, the appearance of the local area marking the beginnings of the Lower Ring's gradual transition into the Middle Ring. The movie they go to see is one Serra has been excited about for a while, Gan learns. Entitled 'First Day in Ba Sing Se', together they watch the silent, comical depiction of the journey of a penniless immigrant into and throughout the city to the tune of melodic piano keys.

The house is full of uproarious laughter within moments of the movie beginning. They watch the man dodge the ticket conductor whilst travelling into the city by way of the Monorail, afterwards, with no official papers to produce, not so stealthily sneaking past the guards in the station. Serra belts out laughter when the man, through a series of fortunate accidents, manages to rescue a young woman from being accosted by several ruffians in the dirty streets of the Lower Ring. Gan turns his gaze from the monochrome images on the screen and looks at her. Her face is bright with joy, each peal of laughter lighting up her eyes.

Another roar fills the house and he turns back to the screen. The rescued, smitten woman invites the man to her home as a show of gratitude, however she is a citizen of the Middle Ring, and when the pair attempts to cross the patrolled boundary between the districts the man is staunchly refused entry. Laughter ensues as the pair briefly consider a plan, and then a few moments later return with the man dressed in oversized, expensive clothes whilst attempting to convince the guards of his supposedly sophisticated mannerisms. There is applause when the pair is let through, and knowing, bitter smirks also.

The culmination of the movie is a ludicrous chase through the pristine streets of the Middle Ring, the deception of the man having been discovered. Upon arriving at her home, the woman convinces her father to bless a union between her and her rescuer. By the time the authorities arrive the pair is happily married, and the man not only an official citizen of Ba Sing Se but also in line to inherit an old man's riches and estate.

"Lucky guy," Serra chuckles as the screen fades to darkness and there is a round of applause.

"Shame we don't get to see what happens afterwards," Gan comments as they begin to find their feet.

"Hmm?" she says, not hearing him fully.

Gan shrugs and smiles. "Doesn't matter," he replies. "So, where are you taking me now?"

Serra smiles in return and takes his arm. They are pushed together as the crowd emerges from the theatre, the buzz of conversation intermingling with the shuffling of feet. She loops an arm through his so that they won't be inadvertently separated. Gan glances down as he feels the contact, as he feels the proximity of Serra against him and amidst the scent of bodies and stuffy heat faintly detects hers. Despite his years, Gan swallows, not in discomfort or embarrassment, but because of how powerfully this feeling thrums through him, this attraction that he fights to keep the reins of his self-control firmly attached to. Part of him knows that Serra is holding onto him like this for the sake of practicality, but another part of him wonders…

Gan lets her lead him to their next destination, and when they reach it his brow rises in pleasant surprise.

"I've lived here all these years, and I didn't know this place existed," he says as they step inside.

"I took a few walks when I first got here," Serra replies, lips curving in amusement.

"Clearly," Gan says.

They take seats along the bar, eventually angling their bodies to face the raised platform at one end of the low lit room. Music complements the relaxed atmosphere of the place, a man of the Water Tribe sitting in front of a sleek black piano in a corner of the room behind them. When Gan begins searching for his wallet to pay for his drink, Serra glares daggers at him. He lifts his hands in mock surrender.

"Night's on me," she reminds him, lifting a finger away from the glass of a tall cocktail to point at him.

Gan meets her sparkling blue eyes. "Force of habit," he says, smiling.

"Not tonight," she replies, taking a sip of the drink. He watches the fuchsia-pink liquid glide between her lips. "I swear I'll hurt you if see you take out that wallet."

As he laughs there is a smattering of applause, and a woman steps up onto the stage. Her hair is black as night and coiffed into elegant curls, shimmering as though it were its own source of light. She wears a black dress that accentuates her figure and sets off the pale tone of her skin, her lips and heels a scandalous red, her lashes full and dark. Whistles emerge from an appreciative audience as the woman saunters towards the microphone stand, a single hand upon her swaying hips as she winks seductively. Gan sees Serra smirking, leaning casually against the bar as she tastes her cocktail once more.

He glances behind him as the tune of the piano keys begins to increase in volume, its rhythm subtly altered to match the voice of the woman on stage. She sings of love and loss, of a single, perfect moment, sweet and forbidden. She sings of a thirst that is not meant to be quenched, a desire too powerful to ignore. She sings of mistakes made and regret, all with a voice that swells and softens like the push and pull of the tide, filling the room until its walls threaten to crack and then withdrawing, becoming a murmur, a whisper, a breath upon the wind. And Gan is captivated by it.

In the end, when the woman steps away from the microphone and bows her head, smiling flirtatiously and soaking up the applause of her audience, Gan is staring, seeing and yet not. He blinks quickly when Serra waves a hand in front of his face. She grins at him.

"Back with us, are you?"

Gan scratches his chin. "I'd never have pegged you for being into this kind of thing."

Serra shrugs. "I'm full of surprises."

And he loves discovering them.

On the way back to his car, Gan can feel his pulse at his neck and hears the very beat of his heart. His throat is a little tight, his brow warm. His hands are pushed into his pockets, fingers wrapping tightly around each other. Serra is walking beside him, humming softly to the tune of the piano keys they have left behind. She has one hand tucked into her pocket, the other loosely wrapped around the cold neck of a beer bottle. The street they are walking down is quiet, and Gan finds it difficult to keep his eyes ahead of him.

"Tonight was fun," Serra remarks suddenly, her voice low. "Thanks for coming out with me."

"Shouldn't I be thanking you?" he says, but she waves the beer bottle dismissively.

"I hope I haven't kept you out too long," she says.

"Well, we could always go for another round," Gan replies.

Serra smirks. "I think my wallet is crying at the moment," she returns shamelessly. "But all for a good cause," she adds, bringing the bottle to her mouth.

Gan watches, and watches. And watches. He tries, but this time he can't pull his eyes away. Her throat undulates as she swallows, her lips glistening as she lowers the bottle, her hair falling forwards to caress her cheek as she tilts her face. The anticipation and desire within him are strong and loud. What little care he has left to hold him back dissipates in a moment.

"Serra," he says, and she looks at him. He taps the corner of his mouth. "You've got something here."

She takes her hand from her pocket and brings a thumb up to rub at the spot he indicates. "Is it gone?"

He shakes his head, and she makes another, more vigorous attempt.

"Still there," he lies when Serra lowers her hand. He moves towards her. "Hold still for a moment."

She does as he asks and Gan stands in front of her, bringing his right hand up to her jaw. Their eyes meet for a fraction a second, but their proximity makes the circumstance awkward and her gaze flits away. Gan drops his to her mouth, to her dark, moist lips. As he leans forward, he wonders whether she can hear the pounding of his heartbeat.

Her lips are all that he has imagined and more. Warm and softer than a breath, and sweet like honey. He feels her stiffen, and her lips do not respond to his kiss, but she does not pull away. He does, to look up and meet her eyes, those precious stones that are locked onto his, trembling ever slightly as a dazed expression shapes her features. Her lips move after a long moment, to breathe his name.

"Gan…"

He loves it, the sound of her voice, her barest whisper as she seems to call to his very soul. He hears desire, want, an aching need, all contained within the single breath it takes to say his name. He desires her too, wants her just as badly, needs her just as much – and he leans forward to kiss her again.

"No."

Her hands are at his chest, impeding him. Her eyes won't meet his.

"_No._"

She pushes him away and takes a step backwards herself. Now she lifts her gaze, and her face is drawn tight.

"Serra –"

"What do you think you're doing, Gan?" she speaks over him, her hand threatening to curl into a fist.

"I'm showing you how much I like you," he answers, for he has decided to waste no words, "how much I've always liked you, Serra."

Her eyes widen and then narrow. Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath.

"We're friends. That's all," she says. "And you're _married._"

"My marriage is cold and dying," Gan laughs without humour.

"That doesn't change the fact," Serra says sharply. "Hana is your wife."

"And you've seen how we are," Gan says, "at work and at home. There's no damn difference. There's no love. There's nothing. But, Serra, you –"

"Me what?" she says vehemently. "I thought you considered me a friend, Gan, not a secret pleasure to be had behind your wife's back."

She pushes past him, pulling her arm from his grip when he attempts to catch her.

"Serra, wait," he says. "That's not what you are to me."

"I don't care what I am to you," she replies. "I'm going home."

"Serra -"

"I'm going. Home."

And she stalks away, walking right past his car, her shoulders straight and back rigid. Gan's only thought as he watches her is of his own idiocy, and the further Serra gets away from him, the clearer the stupidity of his actions become. His teeth ache to bite down on his tongue, but it's too late for that. He jogs after her.

"At least let me drop you home," he says to her back.

Her voice is cold and angry. "I'll walk, thanks."

Gan grabs her arm and pulls her to a stop. "It's late, Serra. Please," he says earnestly, wanting to do something - needing to do anything - to reconcile with her. "You don't...you don't have to talk to me."

Her jaw is tight as she regards him, her eyes hard and unrelenting. She looks away, roughly brushing off his hand. She eventually turns to walk back in the direction of his car. Gan drops his face into his hand, fingers pressing cruelly into the corners of his eyes as he curses himself. He follows after her a few moments later.

* * *

She is still holding the beer bottle as she throws open her front door. She clutches it tightly as the door slams shut behind her, rattling in its frame. She stalks forward into the room, footsteps heavy, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. She can find no rest, pacing to and fro, seeing not what is ahead of her, but a past that is merely minutes old.

He has stolen something from her, the man she called friend. He tricked her and stole something precious. Her lips had known only those belonging to one man, who dwells now in a city far away. Too far. When she feels the kiss, she remembers him, thinks only of him, and for a moment, for a single, blessed moment he is standing in front of her, holding her, _his_ mouth upon hers, _his_ lips softly touching her, calling forth her heart and soul.

Only a sweet mercy prevents her from breathing _his_ name. And now she can think of nothing else.

No one else.

She paces back and forth. Forwards and backwards. Her fingers tangle in her hair and her vision grows hazy with tears. Rounded glass is hard and warm against her palm. Her grip tightens. She remembers – oh, how she _remembers_ – every kiss and every touch, every breath and sweet whisper, and she tries so hard to reach out to him, to call with a voice that transcends the limits of her being, but she is too far, he is too far, and he won't listen even if there is no distance to separate them and she knows why, because she has hurt him and pushed him and ignored him and why should he care anymore, when she has been so blind, so selfish, so stupid? Why should he care, that she stands here with her head in her hands and her heart in her throat, sorrow swimming in her eyes and pain gripping the hollow pit of her stomach, and that all she can say is his name and that she is shaking with no one to hold her and crying with no one to hear her, and that love and need and hate and anguish are crowding in her chest and choking her life away and she needs to release, to release, _to_ _release_ –

The beer bottle screams through the air and hits the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces.

And not long afterwards, so does she.

* * *

Gan turned the door handle with the key, quietly pushing it open. As he shut it behind him, he noticed that the light in the kitchen remained on. He could still hear the faint scratching of a pen, a sound he had left behind and forgotten. His mouth was a tight, thin line as he walked forwards into the hallway, neglecting to remove his shoes or his coat, or even to push his keys back into his pocket. He had eyes only for the room at the end of the hallway, a swath of darkness visible in the gap between the door and the frame. When he heard the voice of his wife however, he paused. Muscles pulsed at his jaw as his teeth clenched.

"You're back," Hana said.

He could imagine that she did not even bother to look up from her work. He did not turn his eyes to find out.

"Yeah," he replied tonelessly.

"Enjoy yourself?" she asked then, and Gan wondered why she bothered to feign interest.

"Thought I would," he answered. "Turns out I didn't."

"That's a shame," Hana said, and even as she spoke Gan had moved away.

He pushed open the door to the living room, blindly reaching around to his left to find the light switch. As the room was illuminated in pale yellow, Gan moved across to a tall wooden cabinet, pulling open its doors to retrieve the decanter of brandy sitting inside.


	18. Chapter 18

"Happy Birthday."

Mako muttered the words as he popped the cap off the bottle of beer, listening to the brief metallic ringing as it fell to the ground. He glanced down at it, and his gaze lingered for a moment, but then he turned his eyes away and lifted the bottle to his mouth. He pulled long and hard, the cool liquid rushing down his throat. When he lowered the beer bottle, Mako looked to the several others waiting for him on the kitchenette counter, along with a tall, dark bottle of cheap wine. At least no one could tell him he had not celebrated.

Pushing away from the counter, Mako turned and headed slowly for his bedroom. The air in the apartment was cool upon his bared arms, Mako wearing nothing more than a faded white vest and loose sweatpants. All was silent save for the weary pull of his footsteps, and the sounds of traffic floating up from the street beyond the building. His free hand dragged along the wall as he turned into the room, afterwards dropping himself heavily onto the bed. Mako swung his legs up onto it with a grunt of effort, leaning his shoulders against the headboard and the back of his head against the wall. He took another swig of beer, staring across at the opposite wall.

After a few minutes of stillness, he turned his head to the left, eyes gracing the dimming light of the evening through the window. His gaze gradually slipped to the right, pausing at his desk. He reached forwards to the drawer closest to him, leaning across and slipping his fingers underneath the curved silver handle. Pulling it open, Mako pushed aside old cuttings of newspapers, a pair of handcuffs from his early days as a police officer, pens – eventually his fingers found the fold of paper they were looking for. He neglected to push the drawer closed again, leaning back and bringing the beer to his lips. Only dregs remained when he lowered it again, and his thumb slowly stroked over the folded surface of the letter.

Mako debated whether he should in fact open it. For the last three days, he had neglected to carry it on his person. He dropped it into the drawer and left it there, and it was odd that he somehow felt lighter without its burden. Another birthday; another year…Mako closed his eyes and breathed deep. He was already cursing himself as his fingers began to push into the folds of the paper to open it to his gaze. And then there was a knock at the front door.

Mako's mouth tightened, his breath escaping his nostrils. He remained still, both his body and his fingers, the letter pried half open. The knocking resumed again after a patient pause, but still he did not move. This continued for almost the length of a minute. Mako had a good idea who was on the other side of the door, and he was hoping that they would get the message. He wanted to be left alone, to wallow peacefully in his misery. However, his wish was not to be granted.

"Mako," a woman's muffled voice spoke, "if you don't come to the door I'll find your landlord and have them open it for you. I know very well that you're in there."

Despite himself, Mako smiled, particularly when the woman began to countdown from ten. He remained where he was until she reached five and informed him of a change of plan, that being to force the door open herself. Something in her tone told him that she would in fact do as she promised. She certainly had the influence to sweep such an incident under the rug if he allowed it to happen, Mako thought. And perhaps it would be better that he not potentially give the neighbours any more of a show to listen in on.

Asami stood in front of him with her arms folded when he pulled the door open, the hem of a shimmering black dress visible beneath her grey coat. She took one sweeping look at him, from the wrinkled state of his vest and sweatpants to the empty beer bottle clutched in his hand.

"Oh no," she said matter-of-factly, stepping into the apartment after plucking the bottle from his grip. "Go and get yourself spruced up. We're going out."

Mako released a tired sigh. "I'd rather not, Asami," he said as he shut the door behind her.

She pushed him lightly in the chest with the bottle. "You don't have a choice, I'm afraid," Asami told him. "I have explicit instructions from your brother to make sure you get out and have some fun."

He shrugged. "I just don't feel like it."

"Mako," she said in a tone that brooked no argument, "remember that I'm proficient in several martial art forms. You can either get yourself ready, or I can do the honours instead."

Mako smirked after a moment, shaking his head at the playfully serious expression Asami crafted. "Look, Asami. I appreciate this, but –"

"I didn't drive over here after getting all dressed up for no reason," she interrupted him, shrugging off her coat and draping it over her arm. "If there's one thing I hate, Mako, it's wasting time."

He sighed and dropped his head, as though it were a leaden weight attached to his neck. He lifted his eyes then to take in Asami. Her hair shimmered, thick, lustrous and fashioned into an elegant bun at the side of her head. A small fringe curved down towards the left side of her brow. Her dress reached just to the knees, cut low at the neck and subtly highlighting the curves of her figure. A string of pearls – real pearls no doubt - rested upon her skin, complementing its creamy tone, and his gaze afterwards moved up to take in the glistening plum red of her lips and then her eyes, pale green and sparkling with humour.

"You look wonderful, Asami," Mako said.

"Thank you," she replied graciously, "but you're the man of the evening," she continued, taking a step forwards and laying her hand on his arm. "Come on, Mako. Let's both just forget about everything else and have a good time tonight. Okay?"

Mako was still holding the folded letter in his hand, and his thumb passed over its surface. He had forgotten what it was like to have fun, to simply have a good time over the past few years, but Asami was slowly helping to remind him of what it was like to smile just for the sake of it, to laugh because it felt good to do so.

"Alright," he relented, and Asami immediately broke out into a grin. "Alright, you win."

"Pardon my arrogance," she said, backing up to lean against the back of his couch, "but I'm used to it."

"Right," he said dryly, turning away and stepping back into his bedroom.

Asami listened to the rustling of clothes and the screech of wire hangers upon the bar of his wardrobe, turning her eyes about the room. It was not the first time she had been in Mako's apartment. She had dropped him home on several occasions, and more recently he had invited her up for a drink or two before she went on her way again. His apartment was a small and comfortable place, Asami thought, reminding her of the room she had kept on Air Temple Island so many years ago. For a man, he kept it particularly tidy she mused with a small smile, and then she turned her eyes towards the kitchenette and saw the cap of a beer bottle lying on the floor.

Chuckling at her previous thought, Asami stood up and moved across to retrieve it from the ground, crouching carefully. When she rose to deposit it and the empty bottle already in her hand on the counter, she paused upon seeing the arrangement of several others that Mako had no doubt intended to work his way through. She would not let him drink alone tonight.

When Mako emerged at last from the bedroom, Asami could feel her lips curving. He was not looking at her as he crossed the threshold into the living room, his gaze pointed to the floor as he held a charcoal grey fedora upside down by the points of his fingers. His trousers and jacket were both a lighter, complementary shade of grey and pinstriped with silver, the latter left unbuttoned. His shirt underneath was white and smoothly tucked into his trousers, the uppermost button also left undone, exposing the flesh of his throat.

"Well," she said, taking in his appearance and causal posture, the fingers of his left hand tucked into his pocket. "And I thought someone wasn't in the mood."

In a slow and elaborate motion, Mako curved his arm upwards and smoothly settled the fedora onto his head. Asami laughed when he tipped its edge forward so that it sat at an angle. When he looked up, she was happy to see that he was smiling.

"You're going to turn a few heads tonight, that's for sure," she told him.

"All in good fun," he replied, walking over to her. He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Asami looped hers through his, smiling warmly at him. "Happy Birthday, Mako."

* * *

The place was buzzing to the tune of a live band, trombones and chatter and the clinking of glasses filling the room from corner to corner. Mako leaned against the bar with a cocktail clutched in his hand, facing the open space in the centre of the room where men and women danced energetically, feet moving so quickly he was almost surprised the floor was not comprised of hot coals. Still, their movements had captured his attention, as had the rhythmic tunes coming from the band. Without his conscious thought, his head began to nod in time with the music, fingers tapping away upon the counter of the bar. Asami, sitting on a stool beside him, was watching him with interest.

"Do you dance?" she asked, drawing his attention.

"Say that again?" he said, not hearing her over the noise.

"Can you dance?" Asami said when he leaned his ear towards her.

Mako straightened after a moment, fixing her with a somewhat wary expression. "I can pro-bend," he replied.

Asami grinned, the glint in her eye mischievous.

"Come on," she said, taking hold of his wrist as she stood to her feet. "I'll show you."

"I'd rather not," Mako said quickly, offering resistance.

"No choice," Asami sang, and with surprising strength began to pull him away from the bar.

Mako barely had the time to set down his drink before he was whisked away to the dance floor she had noticed him eyeing so intently. Heat began to rise to his face as Asami led him forwards, finding a gap amongst their fellow occupants of the floor. When she turned to him and held out her hands, Mako suddenly felt incredibly awkward.

"I'm not sure this will go well," he began to say, gaze turning to observe the spirited, confident movements of the men and women around them.

Asami beckoned, smiling encouragement at him. "Trust me, it's simple. Take my hands."

He did after a long moment. They stood opposite one another, just over an arm's length apart, Asami's thumbs curving over to the back of his hands. Her grip was light upon him, her skin soft and warm. Their proximity served to make meeting her eyes somewhat difficult, and instead Mako found his gaze settling on her lips as she spoke.

"Left leg first," she told him, and he was able to drop his eyes to watch their feet instead. "Take a small step forwards…and bring your feet together," she instructed, moving in time with him.

"Like this?" Mako asked, glancing upwards.

"Yep. That's good. Now bring your right foot backwards…and bring your left level with it again. Like that, good. And that's it!" she announced.

Mako looked up, very much surprised. "Really?"

"That's the basic footwork," Asami told him. Mako raised an eyebrow, sceptical as he again turned to the people around them, watching them dance with exuberance.

"That looks nothing like what everyone else seems to be doing," he said.

Asami briefly extricated her hand from his and waved dismissively. "Don't worry about what they're doing. Small steps," she said, joining their hands once more.

They began to repeat the movements, Asami moving in time with him as they took those small steps back and forth, though this time she instructed him to bend his knees slightly. He was very much aware that they were less than synchronised with the rhythm of the music being played by the band, however Asami gradually began to increase the pace of their steps as she saw him becoming more confident. Eventually, they matched up with the band's tempo, and a smile slowly began to creep up on Mako's intense look of concentration.

"That's it," Asami encouraged as she watched their feet. "You're doing good, Mako."

Despite the fact that there were people around him who, to his mind, were clearly doing much better, Asami's compliment did not feel patronising, but sincere. He began to relax little by little, shoulders loosening, each of his steps attaining a small and almost invisible bounce, and Mako was able to look up and meet Asami's eyes, smiling a little wider.

"You're getting into it," she observed, watching his feet. "Now we're going to –"

"There's more?" he complained.

Asami laughed. "Much more," she said. "We need to add a little bit of personality, a little character. Like this."

She let go of his hands and moved backwards further onto the floor. Already Mako could begin to see the fluidity that filtered into her movements. Asami lifted her hands up in front of her, palms facing outwards as she playfully dropped her gaze to the side. She retreated away from him by kicking her legs out to either side in shallow arcs, bringing each foot to rest behind the other. She gave a quick twist of her heels whenever her foot touched the floor, smoothly bending her knees before kicking out again with her leading leg.

When she reached several paces away from him, Asami lifted her eyes once more. Humour was written clearly upon her features as she leaned forward, watching his increasingly dumbfounded expression. Beginning with the steps she had taught him, Asami's swiftly developed their own bounce and vibrancy. Her arms swung across the front of her body in time with each of her steps, feet kicking forwards and back again with energy and rhythm. Mako merely had to look around himself to see others dancing in a similar manner, but yet he still could not believe that the woman in front of him was Asami.

She was all smiles as she approached him again, her movements smoothly softening into the simpler steps he had been doing before he paused to watch her. She lifted her hands and beckoned for his.

"I can't do any of that," Mako said immediately.

Asami grinned as she took his hands. "Not yet."

She led him swiftly into the tempo that matched up with the music of the band and the energetic steps of the people around them. Bit by bit, she began to nudge him beyond his comfort zone, pushing her feet closer towards his and forcing him to adjust to avoid the awkward alternative of treading on her toes. While he was concentrating on doing so, Mako barely noticed that his steps were developing their own subtle style, and that he was leaning his torso forward towards Asami. He finally did notice when she let go of his hands and he automatically began moving his arms to sway in time with his body.

"Well look at you!" she said over the music, standing back and watching him. Asami lifted her hands and gave him a small applause, smiling proudly. Mako could only shake his head and laugh, his body refusing to give pause now that a dormant spark somewhere had been struck and he was alight with its subsequent flame.

He could not remember moving like this in all his life, and yet it felt natural, as though the steps had been imprinted upon a long forgotten memory and it had only taken Asami to gently coax them forth. And as she mirrored his form and began to dance herself, her eyes sparkling and lips curved, the hem of her dress fluttering in the air around her knees and arms swinging rhythmically across her chest, Mako could not help the smile that spread wide across his face, so much so that his cheeks began to ache. She was giving him something, giving without asking in return, giving and encouraging him to take. Mako honestly did not know how to do that, because all he knew was how to give. It was what he had been doing his entire life.

Giving. Giving. Giving.

But Asami was stoutly refusing to let him do that tonight. As they danced opposite one another, her vibrancy gave him reason to smile. The personality she imbued her steps with, at times showing off a little with moves he did not dare try to imitate, brought laughter gushing from his lips more prominently than he could remember doing so in days, weeks, and months. He felt freer than he had in years.

Only when the band brought the tune to an end did Mako begin to notice the ache in his limbs. His legs seemed to turn to lead the moment he stilled their fervent movements, chest rising and falling as he brought his hands to his hips, his brow and neck warm. Asami, in comparison, appeared to be breathing lightly, as though all they had done was partake in a leisurely stroll. Mako patted himself with a napkin as soon as he could lay his hands upon one as they left the floor.

"You'll make for a great dance partner someday," Asami told him once they returned to the bar.

"Thanks," he replied, a little breathless in his speech. "I didn't even know I could do that," he laughed.

He missed what she said in return, the band striking up another loud and energetic tune. Despite having just thoroughly enjoyed their previous number, Mako found the interruptions to his and Asami's conversation a little grating. He also did not fail to notice that his drink had gone missing.

"How about we find somewhere a little quieter?" he suggested to her, raising his voice to be heard.

She gave a nod and smile, slipping off her stool a moment later and taking his arm. They collected their coats on the way out, afterwards stepping out of the club into the cool evening air of the city.

"I know a bar not too far from here," Asami said as Mako settled his fedora onto his head. "Small place. We can have a few drinks there."

"Aren't you driving?" he asked her. Her car had been left parked outside the restaurant she had taken him to before they walked over to the club. Asami shrugged in response to his question.

"I'll be alright."

Mako smirked upon hearing her answer. "Is that a not so subtle way of telling me you can hold your drink?"

"Well, I can," Asami said, emphasising the pronoun. "I guess we'll see about you, though."

"Mm. We'll see," Mako agreed with a smile.

The bar was indeed a small place, and tucked away unassumingly such as that it would take a second and perhaps third glance to notice it. When they stepped inside, exchanging the bright orange streetlights for the pale illumination of a room whose corners were wrapped in shadow, Mako raised his eyebrow as Asami gave a perfunctory nod towards the tall, thin man standing behind the bar.

"Dare I ask how you of all people know a place like this?" he said as they found a table tucked against the wall, slow, tinny music filtering into the room from an old jukebox.

"I was stressed out of my mind when I first took control of the company," Asami answered as she drew out her seat. "I needed some place quiet and out of the way, just to dull my thoughts and forget about everything."

"Surely you would've been recognised. You were in the papers almost every day back then."

"Pick up everyone's tab for an evening, Mako, and it's amazing how many friends you suddenly have," Asami said. "They'll shut up and look away and it's almost as though you aren't there all."

"Huh. Can't say I've ever had that luxury," he remarked.

"You do tonight," she told him. "I'll get us some drinks, nothing too heavy. Don't want you tapping out after five minutes."

Mako smirked and rolled his eyes. He took her coat as she stood to her feet again and shrugged it from her shoulders, folding it over the back of her chair.

He noticed the glances Asami received as she walked over to the bar, and he himself could not help but allow his eyes to take in her profile. Her shoulders were broader than he remembered, and the muscles of her arms more defined, but she had told him that she still participated actively in martial arts classes, and so to that he attributed that aspect of her physique. Otherwise, his gaze fell to the slight tuck of her waist beneath her dress, and then to her legs, long and smooth, the porcelain tone of her skin seeming to inhabit a soft glow in the dim light of the room. Mako blinked then, and after a moment looked away.

Asami returned with a long-necked bottle in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other. She saw his eyebrow lift when he glanced at the brand stamped upon the body of the bottle, and then she smiled when he looked up at her and appeared to reconsider the words waiting at the tip of his tongue.

"Consider yourself very lucky," Asami commented lightly, pushing the screw of the opener into the soft body of the cork.

"To have a friend like you?" Mako finished.

"I was going to say because this was the last bottle they had, but I guess that works well enough too," she said. He smirked when Asami winked at him.

The cork was pulled from the mouth of the bottle with an emphatic _pop, _and Asami poured the sparkling white wine into each of the tall curved glasses. Mako took one of them as she offered it to him. She raised her glass in front of her after setting the bottle down on the table. "Any words?" she asked, looking down at him with expectancy and amusement glittering in her eyes. Mako paused for a moment, thinking.

"Thank you," he said eventually, returning her smile.

"As I thought, a man of very few words," Asami replied, tilting her glass forwards to gently touch the side of his. "Happy Birthday, Mako."

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" he asked when she retook her seat and brought her glass to her lips.

"I was something of a socialite when I was younger," Asami said, leaning back against her chair. "Back then, I had very little to worry about concerning Future Industries. I spent my days working my way into the 'in' crowd."

"And that required you to learn how to dance?"

"It was what everyone was doing. Didn't want to be left out now, did I?" Asami said with a humourless smirk. "I grew up sheltered, kept out of the limelight. I didn't get many opportunities to make friends, so when I discovered these girls who were like me, rich and with nothing to do, well I was eager to fit in, to be heard and noticed. I did whatever they did."

"Like?"

Asami waved her hand. "Lady-like things," she said, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Wine tasting, conversation, ridicule…"

"Ridicule?" Mako repeated, half laughing.

"Of everything and everyone who wasn't us," Asami replied. "You would have hated me if I crashed into you a year or two earlier."

Mako reached forward to grasp the bottle of wine and refilled their glasses. "So what changed?"

"I developed a passion for cars," Asami said simply. "I was slowly falling in love with the smell of oil and the growl of an engine. I loved getting my hands dirty up to my elbows working underneath a car. I loved taking them out on the test track and pushing them to the limit. I never felt more alive or complete than when I had my hands on a steering wheel, powering around a turn faster than I had any right to be going and smelling nothing but burnt rubber."

"None of that sounds very lady-like," Mako commented with a smile over the lip of his glass.

"I agree," she replied. "My so-called friends thought the same. It wasn't long before I was the object of their ridicule."

"I don't think many of them can make the same claims to success as you can now," Mako said lightly. "And by the sound of it, I don't think I'd care for their company either."

"I left them to bicker amongst themselves," Asami said, draining her glass. She set it down on the table and offered Mako a smile. "No doubt they haven't stopped yet." She indicated his glass. "Ready to tap out?"

"What do you take me for, Asami?" he replied to her challenge.

She smirked, rising to her feet. "Perhaps you misheard the part where I've been drinking since the age of fifteen."

In response, he downed the remnants of his glass, afterwards smiling up at her with shimmering golden eyes. "Bring it on, sweetie."

Asami laughed openly. "Oh, I do believe it's on, Mako."

* * *

She discovered that contrary to his bravado, Mako could not hold his drink very well. Not very well at all, in fact. While she was experiencing only a familiar, manageable light-headedness, Mako was all but hanging onto her as they pushed through the door and stepped out into the night. She bore his weight as he leaned against her, his arm draped across her shoulders. Asami had her right arm curved around his waist and her left hand at his chest, keeping him from stumbling forwards.

"Woah…" he breathed, pulling up short after they had walked a few metres down the street. "Asami, everything's spinning…"

"Don't worry about it," she replied, patting his chest. "You'll be fine. I've got you."

"Where are we going?" he asked, voice slightly slurred as they resumed walking.

"I'm taking you home," she told him.

"Really? That's nice. Thanks 'sami."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "I thought you said you could keep up with me, Mako."

"I can," he said, swaying to the right momentarily. She pulled him up straight. "I can, I swear. But you wouldn't let me drink anymore. You weren't even drinking that much anyway…"

"That's because I was watching you embarrass yourself," Asami said. "And you definitely can't hold your drink."

"I can," he argued, pulling up short again and wearing a tight expression of determination that only drew laughter from Asami. "I'll show you, when we get home. I'll show you."

"Sure you will," she said, urging him to continue walking. Mako fell silent as they walked back the way they had originally come to reach the bar, passing the club and hearing the jazzy tunes filtering through its doors. He spoke up again when they turned the corner.

"'sami."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she said, looking across at him curiously.

"After what I did," he answered in a quiet voice, pausing for a moment and then swallowing as though he tasted courage upon the air. "After I…after I left you. You shouldn't do these things for me. I'm sorry."

Asami laughed lightly. "That was years ago, Mako. And besides, I forgave you. I realised some things just aren't meant to be."

"I'm really sorry," he said again, as though he had not heard or properly registered her words. "I shouldn't have, not like –"

"I forgive you," she said, turning to smile up at him

"Really?" Mako said, the pitch of his voice rising like a hopeful child's. "You're not just saying that?"

"Yes, really," she said, and Asami gave him a light squeeze of assurance. "Now, let's get you inside."

Mako paused, his eyes sliding in and out of focus as he looked down at her car. "I didn't realise we…wait," he turned to look down at her, attempting to frame his expression into something severe. "Wait, you're not driving, are you?"

"Of course I am," she told him, reaching down to pull open the passenger's door.

"You've been drinking."

"But I'm not the one who's hammered, _officer,_" she retorted, smirking.

"You shouldn't drive," he was saying even as he ducked his head under her guidance and began to get inside.

"I'll drive very carefully," Asami said patiently, pushing the door shut with a shake of her head as Mako lifted a hand to gesture at her.

When she stepped around to the other side of the Satomobile and pulled open the door, Mako had turned in his seat to offer her the same gesture, words on the tip of his tongue that did not quite make it out of his mouth. Asami pushed his hand away and told him twice not to disturb her while she was driving. It was not the first time she had driven after a night of drinking – or in this case, a mere portion of one – and was aware of what risks there would be, particularly with a passenger in Mako's inebriated state. He was surprisingly well behaved, however. He grew quiet and still, and Asami was initially glad for it, needing all her attention to focus upon the road ahead. That was until she took a prolonged glance over at him and saw his expression.

When they reached his apartment building, Asami parking up against the kerb and killing the engine, Mako turned in his seat and pushed open the door before she had even retrieved the key from the ignition. He scowled as he walked around the front of the car and caught his foot on something, stumbling and planting his hand against the bonnet to steady himself. Asami quickly moved across to help him after pushing her door shut.

"Here, let me –"

"No," Mako said roughly, brushing at her hand, "I'm fine. I'm fine."

His mood was dark, and she saw it quite plainly, his features tight and eyes narrowed. He glared at her when she moved to help him, but then his gaze dropped away not a moment later.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's alright," Asami replied. "I'll only help you if you need it."

Mako nodded curtly, and then made his way forwards toward the entrance of the building. Asami followed behind him, ready to catch him if he stumbled or slipped. He managed to make it up the flights of stairs to his floor with little incident, though his hand did grip the banister rather tightly, and he paused at several intervals, bowing his head and uttering softly growled curses before moving on. Upon reaching his door, Mako searched for a long, awkward moment for his keys, patting his coat down with a bemused expression upon his face. After finding it, he missed the keyhole twice, afterwards swallowing and fixing his hand with a look of intense concentration as he guided the key forward a third time. All the while, Asami looked on quietly.

"Mako," she said as she pushed the door shut behind her, turning afterwards to see him shrugging off his coat and leaving it to fall to the floor in his wake. He kicked off his shoes as though they were a great annoyance, leaving them lying haphazardly upon the ground along with his fedora. He ignored her as walked over to the kitchenette, laying his hands upon one of the beer bottles.

"Mako, I don't think you should drink anymore," Asami said, taking a step towards him.

"Do you know how long I've waited?" he said, eyes not on her but the bottle, considering it as though it were a great and important discovery.

"You've already –"

"Almost three years," he spoke over her. "Three years, Asami. Three. Years."

She paused, lowering her hand. Mako wore an expression that suggested he was not in fact looking down at the bottle, but that there was something else there in front of his eyes. His jaw was tight, muscles along its sloping, angular line twitching. As his left hand reached forwards to retrieve a bottle opener from the counter, he took a few seconds to steady himself against it.

"I keep telling myself 'Just be patient. Just wait a little longer, Mako.' But you know what? I think I'm tired of it. I'm fed up of waiting."

Asami walked over to him as he lifted the bottle opener and began to wrest with the cap of the beer bottle. She settled her hand first over his, meeting his eyes when he looked up at her and seeing such agitation and conflict in his gaze, and then she moved her right hand to the bottle.

"You don't need this," she told him.

"I do."

"You don't."

He held onto it, swaying momentarily on his feet. "I need something."

"Not this," Asami said, and she began to gently extricate it from his fingers.

"Then _what?"_ Mako said, anger suddenly bubbling up into his voice as he pulled his hand and the bottle clutched in it away from her. The bottle opener clattered to the floor as he threw it down, afterwards roughly pushing his hand into his jacket. "Am I supposed to depend on this?" he asked her, ripping his fingers from his pocket and between them holding a crumpled, folded sheet of paper. "Am I supposed to live with this stupid _letter_ as my only comfort? Is this supposed to help get me through each and every day that I have to sit here and _wait?"_

Asami took a step backwards as he shook the paper vehemently in her face. "Mako –"

"No," he cut across her, shaking his head. "I won't do this anymore. I can't. I'm always _giving,_ every single day of my damn life. Even now, when she's not even here, I'm _still_ giving. Every day that I wait, every day that I _waste_; every day that I sit here waiting for nothing!"

Asami jumped as Mako moved suddenly, slamming his left hand down to the counter. Her eyes widened as he gave an impassioned shout and flames sprung up around his fingers, burning hot and red as the flesh of his hand was encompassed. She stared, her mouth dry as she tried to swallow the hard lump in her throat. Mako was breathing hard and short as he watched the restrained flames himself, his eyes narrow and burning with heat, heat she could feel pushing through the air towards her.

Gradually, the flames began to soften, losing that heat and ferocity, becoming little more than rebellious tongues that flicked into the air before Mako quelled it completely. His flesh was left a pale hue of pink, the cuff of his jacket singed black. There was a clunk as Mako deposited the beer bottle onto the counter, dropping his chin towards his chest. Asami heard him draw a ragged breath. She knew not what to do, her thoughts to step forward and comfort restrained by something else, a different feeling that had her staring numbly at the place where fire had been born in anger. It was after a few moments that Asami realised she was moving away.

"Perhaps I should go," she murmured softly into the silence that settled upon the room, and she turned on her heel, her eyes low as she swallowed and made for the door.

"Asami, don't," spoke a voice from her back, low and distraught, as though gravel had been packed into his throat and he struggled with all his might to push his words through it.

"Don't go," he said, and she heard him moving, heard him approaching her. "Don't leave me, please. I don't think I can bear to spend the night alone."

Asami slowly turned as she felt his presence at his back. They regarded each other in silence for a long moment, forlorn golden eyes upon veiled green. Mako lifted his hand then, his right, bringing it up to stroke the back of his fingers along her cheek. His touch was cool and light, his gaze shifting very slightly to admire her features.

"I know it's too late to tell you," he murmured then, gaze rising from her lips to meet her eyes, "but you're an incredible woman, Asami. Beautiful, intelligent, accomplished…" he made a strange sound then, a cross between laughter and bitterness as he dropped his gaze. "I was never worth much to you, was I?"

Conscious, logical thought was buried beneath something complex and raw, something Asami could not quite define, but whatever it was, this strange and bold feeling that guided her hand up to his jaw, she embraced it. Mako felt her pull him forwards and obeyed, he too devoid of conscious thought. Or rather not devoid entirely, but instead the combination of a simpler need for warmth, for comfort, and the sluggish, dampening effect of the alcohol flowing through his system on his thoughts kept him from considering anything else beyond the walls of his apartment. And then his powers of perception narrowed further still, and suddenly all that existed was the woman in front of him.

Their first kiss was tentative. The years had been long, and back then they were but a boy and girl, touching chastely with the blush of a cheek and an awkwardly pleased parting. But now they were a man and woman, and each understood the ways of desire and passion and the fulfilling of both. That first kiss was akin to both Asami and Mako gathering their bearings, attuning themselves to the taste and feel of each other once more, and when they parted their gazes met, each seeing their own heat simmering in the other's eyes.

Mako leaned forward to join their lips, feeling Asami's fingers slide upwards and push into his hair. She felt him pressing heavily into her, and had to throw out her left arm behind her to brace against the wall. He seemed to notice his error, straightening and muttering an apology when their lips parted. Asami sealed his mouth to tell him it didn't matter, tasting the alcohol on his breath. She moved her hand and let it run along his shirt, her fingers rising from his stomach to his chest and afterwards set to the task of loosening his buttons. The effort was momentarily abandoned when she felt him tugging at her coat, and she dropped her arms to shrug it from her shoulders.

Mako had no problems meeting her gaze as they parted to draw breath, and they paused for a moment simply to look upon one another, to admire smooth porcelain beauty and handsomely rugged features. And then, impatient, Mako crushed their lips together, savouring the taste that graced his tongue, sweet with a dry hint of wine. His left hand was at the small of her back, the right ghosting along her bicep as Asami looped her arms about his neck and drew him to her. A sudden desire was born within him and Mako withdrew from her delicious, full mouth to the sound of a disappointed moan.

"Shake out your hair," he urged her, and smiling, she did.

Mako watched it fall, his breath caught in his throat. Thick and dark, it swayed and bounced, tumbling down her shoulders and spilling onto her creamy flesh. Eventually, when she had affected a pout and tossed her head left and right, Asami brought her eyes to meet his again, sparkling precious stones imbued with desire and sensuality.

"Like it?" she whispered, and Mako could only hum his appreciation and let his lips fall to her neck, drawing her body against him to show just how much he had liked it. Asami chuckled low in her throat as she felt his arousal, though a moment later her breath hitched when he suckled on her flesh. A soft gasp escaped her, hands falling to Mako's waist as she closed her eyes and pulled him forwards.

Deepening passion led them over to the couch, its vessel Mako's lifting Asami off the ground and somewhat blindly stumbling over to it. The telephone sitting on the table next to it was knocked askew when his thigh bumped heavily against it, thought the clatter it made when it hit the floor was ignored. The springs of the old couch protested when they settled upon it, Asami resting the back of her head against the armrest as Mako overshadowed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue and her body with his fingers. Again he parted from her before she could have her fill, and again Asami gave a breathy moan of frustration – at least until she registered Mako retreating until he was nestled between her legs, bunching the hem of her dress in his hands and pushing it up towards her waist.

It was not long before her head was thrown back, her face turned to the ceiling and her eyes roving beneath their lids. With rhythmic timing, Asami released long, shuddering sighs and strained grunts, her hands reaching down to tangle themselves in Mako's hair and pull his mouth and lips and tongue ever closer. And then he was cruel enough to employ his digits also, and Asami's hips rolled hypnotically like the waves of the ocean. Her mouth opened, plum red lips splitting apart to cry adulation and thanksgiving to the Spirits she hardly cared for.

Mako was upon her then, barely patient enough to loosen his belt and pull his trousers down past his knees. Her nails scraped along his chest, drawing a hiss from his lips as he began to move. His mouth fell haphazardly upon her cheek, her jaw, her throat, clumsily coupling with her own as he lay atop her and abandoned himself to pleasure. Her hands pushed under the fluttering flaps of his open shirt, moving to his back and digging into the flesh of his shoulders. Asami groaned delight into his ear, telling him she was close, so close. And then his own climax came upon him, sudden and unwelcome.

His inebriation served to undo him, dulling his ability to react to his body's signals. Mako felt his pleasure begin to crest, too far gone for him to rein back in. He tightened, muscles locking up, trying with all his might to do the impossible, for something suddenly burst into his sluggish thoughts with blinding clarity, something that he had not needed to concern himself with for years.

He was not wearing protection.

"_Asami –"_

Thank the Spirits she did not question what was wrong and why he had stopped and was beginning to withdraw. Her hands were at his shoulders, pushing him backwards as she swiftly lifted herself up and away. And then she was sitting on her knees beside him as he heavily pulled himself up, teetering on the very edge of his sanity. Asami wrapped her right hand around his painfully tight arousal and engaged his mouth, curving her arm over his shoulders. Mako groaned deeply, hips bucking as he let slip the reins of self-control and pleasure crashed over him, stealing each and every thought from his mind as everything before his eyes was, for a split second, washed white.

In the aftermath, as he breathed loud and heavily, sagging back into the couch, the first words that found his lips were an apology.

"I'm sorry, Asami," he murmured, and when Mako turned to her, he felt embarrassment rising hotly to his face. He quickly dropped his gaze before he could take in her expression.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You made me feel good," he heard her say.

"But you didn't…you didn't finish," he said in a low, timid voice. It was not an event he was used to, and neither was the losing of his control before he deemed himself good and ready.

"Don't worry about it, Mako," Asami said quietly, and when he looked up at her she gave a small, fleeting smile. "Where do you keep your towels?"

After they had cleaned up, Asami stood in the kitchenette, barefoot and with her eyes upon the collection of beer bottles in front of her. Blackened curls of paper lay beside them, dusted with ash. Mako emerged from the bathroom, his spoiled trousers exchanged for sweatpants. Silence stretched between them as he stood beside the couch with a hand scratching the back of his head, and she stood with her hands upon the counter, her eyes pointed low.

"You can sleep in the bedroom," Mako offered then, voice quiet as though not to disturb the subtle hint of tension in the air. "I'll take the couch."

Asami looked up, offering in return a strained smile. "Thanks." After a moment's deliberation, she closed her hand around one of the bottles. "I have an early meeting in the morning," she said. "I'll likely be gone before you're up."

"That's alright," he replied, gaze dropping to the ground. Asami watched him hold onto the back of the couch as he walked carefully around to the front of it. She picked up the bottle opener and popped the cap off the beer, setting it down quietly upon the counter and then walking towards the proffered bedroom. Before he collapsed onto the couch and succumbed almost instantly to sleep, Mako retained the presence of mind to speak once more.

"Asami," he called, and she turned to look over her shoulder. "What…what did we…?"

She tapped her fingers momentarily against the body of the bottle. "It was just a bit of fun between friends," she answered eventually.

He nodded slowly. She raised her bottle towards him, stirring up from her depths congenial warmth to bring to her smile.

"Happy Birthday, Mako."

His returned expression was not quite a smile and not quite a frown, and Asami turned away and stepped into the bedroom before he could try and struggle to find the words to reply. She sat at the edge of his bed and listened for the sinking springs of the couch, taking a pull from the bottle and wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. She would wait only for a few minutes after his soft snoring began before she left.

* * *

**A/N: So, during the writing of this chapter, I discovered the 1920s dance craze and the Charleston in particular. It was difficult to not smile like an idiot picturing Asami teaching Mako how to do it, and then busting out a few moves of her own to show off some. I only wish I could describe it as vividly as I see it in my head. And to the Makorra fans who have not yet gotten fed up of this story and are still reading, I humbly ask for a little more patience. Finally, thanks again to all who have reviewed and all that other good stuff. 'preciate it. Till next time!  
**


	19. Chapter 19

_Asami's gloved fist whipped past the man's cheek, his head pulled away just in time to avoid her strike. His partner gave a grunt of surprise, turning as she suddenly descended upon them both. The first man was not so fortunate as Asami delivered her second strike, with speed and precision slamming her knuckles into his jaw. He reeled backwards and then stumbled as his heel awkwardly caught the ground. His hands snatched wildly through the air, but there was nothing to be found to help him retain his balance. The man fell straight into his partner, and Asami was turning even as they fell to the ground._

_"Come on!" she said, reaching forward and grabbing the wrist of her employee, the man's face tight with pain as he clutched an arm around his waist. When he looked up and seemed to study her, his eyes began to widen with recognition. But there was no time for explanations. Asami pulled him away from the wall as the men behind them cursed loudly and untangled themselves. But as she turned her gaze towards the entrance of the alley, Asami's stride faltered. It was blocked by the figure of a third man. She remained utterly still as he sauntered towards them. Only when a hand roughly grasped her shoulder was Asami spurred into action._

_She turned swiftly on her heel, heart pounding against its cage. The thug who had grabbed her gave a loud grunt of pain, folding as she drove her foot into his stomach. Asami released her employee's wrist, barely having time to prepare for another kick as the second thug pushed past his partner and rushed towards her. Her strike was high and wild, missing its mark and only sending the man stumbling backwards with a grazed chin. Adrenaline flooded her system, and Asami turned quickly to put down the first man, who had recovered and spread his feet with purpose. She recognised the prelude to earthbending in a moment, and made directly for him as he snarled, fist drawn back –_

_A hand twisted hard into her hair and roughly pulled her backwards. Asami gave a shout of surprise and pain, arms flailing in an attempt to reach her assailant. And then she released a strangled grunt as fingers curled around her neck and her back was thrown to the wall. Asami gasped as she felt the pressure against her throat, reaching up to grasp the wrist of the man holding her in place. Her struggle was cut short when a hand bearing flames was lifted before her eyes._

_"What have we here?" the man murmured as she fell still, eyes amused and flickering with heat. Asami stared at him, or rather at the fire in his hand, which he held very close to her cheek. It glowed hotly, and she did not dare to breathe. She could hear the air crackling around it. She could smell loose strands of hair that strayed too close to the tongues of flame singeing. And then she heard a woman's scream from long ago, echoing through time. The beat of her heart was painful and loud, and Asami's eyes were pulled wide in sudden, real fear. _

_"Aren't you a pretty little thing," the man told her, gaze roving with hunger, lips curved with humour. And Asami could not move. She could only stare, breathing hard and short, and her gaze was full of flames. She was falling, utterly trapped, completely surrounded. And then she heard the wailing of sirens._

* * *

_"What are the two things that a bender requires in a fight?"_

_"Time and space," replied the young woman, remembering the lessons of her childhood she was given no choice but to attend._

_If the man was surprised that she had answered the question correctly or at all, he did not show it._

_"Good," he said, standing before her with his arms folded behind his back. "As you are aware then, bending is not an instantaneous process. Not even firebending, though a firebender will be quicker to the draw than most."_

_The young woman swallowed before nodding her understanding, standing in front of her teacher with her arms similarly behind her back and feet separated by a shoulders' width. The man broke his posture to lift his hand before him, and from the metal basin sitting on a stool away to his left rose a fluid string of water._

_"It takes time to translate will to action, and in relation to bending this commodity is all the more precious. Tell me why a bender would need the other," the man said._

_"Bending requires a form," the young woman answered, "a specific movement of the body to transform intent into action."_

_"Good," her teacher said again. "And so, while bending grants the individual a powerful tool with which to fight, it can also prove to be a hindrance."_

_The young woman nodded once more. As the man paused, they both stood to observe as the ribbon of water he had drawn into the air began to split along its length, forming spherical shapes whose surfaces undulated with a gentle rhythm._

_"The various forms of bending have undergone marked change in an attempt to be adapted to the city environment," her teacher explained. "Waterbending, for example, has developed aggressive, more confrontational styles where decades ago its forms were built prominently upon principles of reactionary defence, adapting to an attack rather than initiating it. In short, that is to say that it has become a swifter and more dangerous form of bending than it has ever been."_

_The young woman watched as the hovering globes of water began to solidify, their shape and state altered by the man's will. It was not long before she was staring at an arc of flat, icy blades that hung ominously in the air between them. When her eyes flickered back to find his, the young woman found herself graced with a cool and unblinking gaze. A cautionary instinct began to stir within her._

_"The average bender tends to depend heavily upon their ability when faced with physical confrontation," the man said. "More often than not, once you remove the freedom within which they can produce the necessary forms in order to bend, they will lack the reflexes to properly defend themselves through other physical means."_

_Without words or warning, her teacher stretched out his arm, pushing forwards his left hand. The young woman witnessed first a blur of movement before experiencing stinging pain. She hissed and slapped her hand over the thin cut scored into the flesh of her right arm._

_"Before you can take advantage of that weakness however, you must learn to expose it," the man continued, affecting no difference in his tone. He shifted in his stance as the young woman glared at him, her expression momentarily tightening with a wince. "Time and space," he told her, lifting his hands to the ready. "Take them from me."_

_When she was inflicted with a second cut upon her shoulder, the young woman was reminded that standing still in bewilderment of her teacher's methods was an unwise option._

* * *

Asami stepped across the threshold of the bathroom, her form wrapped up in a long cream towel. Its smaller cousin was clutched in her hands, her head tilted to the side so that she could better dry her hair. The ache of her muscles in the immediate wake of training had softened underneath the hot, strong pressure of the showerhead, and with it her thoughts had seemed to dissolve too. She stood within the glass cubicle, surrounded by steam and nothing more, allowing herself to relax and feel at ease. The air was cool upon her skin as she stepped outside of that little pocket of existence, and almost immediately Asami's mind began to churn.

The main living space of the apartment was large, so much so that Asami had more empty space than filled. The palette of the room consisted primarily of black, beige and cream, complimented by the odd splash of red that amongst its fellow hues was made to seem all the more vibrant. The far wall of the room was open, panels of glass taller than she was granting her an enviable view out over the city. She made her away over to the pair of black sofas positioned near the windows, both parallel to each other but slanted as though to face eastward. Between them stood a clear glass coffee table, ovular in shape and with a smaller curve of glass hanging fixed below the first.

Asami settled herself upon the edge of the left sofa, continuing to towel her hair dry as she turned her eyes towards the windows. The skyline of the city was dipped in fading golden light, overlapped with a soft hue of darkening blue as evening crept across the sky. It was not uncommon for her to sit here and look out over the city. With her alone occupying the apartment, its room were more or less peacefully quiet, the murmur of the passing traffic little more than that, for she was too high up for it to be a disturbance or distraction. Sometimes Asami could hear the rumbling drone of an airship instead, but the sound and the presence of the airship itself did not linger long. So it was that to simply sit here and observe the world beyond the windows served to be oddly calming, and helped shape and focus her thoughts.

She shuffled backwards onto the sofa proper, and the towel tightened around her chest at the place where she had tucked it into itself as Asami leaned backwards into the seat. Unlike Mako's the back of her sofa was low, providing support for the lower portion of her torso. Habit crossed her right leg over her left, and were she to be entertaining a guest, they would be granted a view of exposed thigh as her towel slipped fractionally. Asami paid little mind however, lowering the smaller towel from her hair and letting it fall into her lap. Her thoughts turned to her plans as she rested an elbow upon the back of the sofa, or rather the uncertain, unorganised ideas that at present spun slowly through her mind.

She had conducted her trial runs (that was how Asami liked to refer to them) over the course of the previous week, both with the purpose of testing her equipment and testing herself. Asami had spent long hours poring over the mappings of Republic City's underground tunnel system, discovered amongst Hiroshi Sato's papers, until she could commit them firmly to memory. It was far more extensive than she could have hoped to imagine, and thus the task she set herself more than daunting.

The more she learned and was able to visualise before her mind's eye, the more Asami understood and grimly appreciated the Equalists' ability to evade capture and detection during the height of their revolution. She would never dare to say that she could map out even a third of the city's tunnel system from memory, but the areas in which she had interest were those that could be called readily to mind, and that knowledge proved reliable when put to the test.

Next came her equipment, and Asami had been most apprehensive about the body armour she would wear. It was an amalgamation of both Hiroshi Sato's and Bolin's ideas, created by the former and unknowingly refined by the latter. When Asami first laid eyes upon the papers, she saw that influence had largely been drawn from the metalbending police department's equipment, though the segmentation of the armour would allow for it to be broken down and stored compactly, and thus transported (and hidden) more easily. Along with that, Asami could see in the armour's design the intention to retain the flexiblity of the user without sacrificing protection, though the proposed method to her eyes possessed flaws.

When she had approached Bolin with the intention of employing him, Asami provided him with portions of Hiroshi's Sato plans in order to test his ability. She watched with a careful expression as Bolin took a good, long look at the spread of papers in front of him, turning them this way and that before taking up a pencil and proceeding to make a plethora of adjustments. The manner in which Bolin poked his tongue between his lips in fierce concentration made her smile. When he asked, Asami revealed only to him the nature of the new contract she had secured for Future Industries. In actuality, Asami redrew the design for the Equalist intended body armour according to Bolin's adjustments, afterward sending it off to a manufacturer in the Fire Nation with whom she had connections. Several weeks later, she quietly received shipment of the resultant product.

Hiroshi Sato's plans had ruled out almost entirely the use of metal for the armour, and Asami understood the necessity to deny metalbenders the opportunity to drag the wearer around or otherwise pull the armour off entirely. Instead, the structure of the armour (which would protect her entire torso front and back, and segment to also provide protection for her shoulders) was composed of multiple plates of a hard plastic-based material over a pure, platinum based fiber weave to help facilitate the body's natural flexibility. Beneath this one would wear an undersuit whose fabric was composed of supposed heat-resistant materials. Asami had not personally seen or conducted the tests for herself, and simply had to trust the word of the manufacturer.

In comparison with the armour of a metalbending police officer then, her alternative was both lighter and just as durable, proving its worth and taking the sting out of several strikes she had taken during her altercations with triad thugs. Asami was more than grateful for it, particularly on that first night, where the impact of the water whip by all rights should have torn her shoulder from its socket. She almost winced right then at the memory of the pain that had blossomed in her shoulder regardless.

Asami lifted a hand and began to comb her fingers absentmindedly through her damp locks. Something she could not deny as she fled quietly from each scene and slipped beneath the city was a thrill that curved up the length of her spine, splintering to tingle along the skin of her limbs. Something that, when she leaned against the cold wall of a tunnel, encompassed in silence and semi-darkness and removed her mask, breathing the stale air, brought an odd smile to her lips. Asami felt powerful, unhindered by rules and at last unencumbered by her identity.

Asami felt that sense of power filtering through her as she delivered one brutal strike after the other, watching the men fold and crumple unceremoniously to the ground. They could not stand up to her, to the cold ruthlessness and calculating precision with which she fought. And upon the faces of those whom her intervention had rescued, their utter shock and simultaneous sheer gratitude…she was doing something _good,_ giving hope and respite – even to the few; something which the people of the city had been denied with the disappearance of the Avatar. She who had sworn to protect them all.

However, fear flooded her when Asami unexpectedly encountered the police officers; a shock to the system. It was a hard dose of reality that reminded her upon which side of the law she was operating, and also that her identity, which was worth so much more than just the monetary value of her name, was obscured only by a thin piece of grey fabric.

There was no question as to whether she would allow herself to be apprehended. Asami pushed past them, and the officers in question fell away before her strength. But she did not forget what that moment sought to remind her of. She had started out with a purpose, and it was that upon which she needed to focus. She did not plan and prepare for months to walk this path only to be distracted from it. But as Asami sat there, her eyes turned towards the darkening skyline, she found that her thoughts were refusing to coalesce with clarity.

But at least she knew why. She was indeed distracted, by the voice of thoughts that she had harboured for long years.

The sound of a short, sharp buzzing drew her attention away from the windows, her gaze turning to encompass the room. The buzzing pierced the silence once again, and Asami briefly contemplated ignoring it before she lifted herself to her feet. She walked over to the front door, the sound of her bare footsteps soft as she turned to the small white and largely featureless box affixed to the wall. Three curved lines were cut into the lower portion of the box, silver mesh visible in the minute gap. At the right side of the box was a steadily blinking bulb of red light, and at its left a round grey button. Asami touched it just as the box emitted another sharp buzz.

"Yes?" she said politely.

"Ms. Sato, there is a man here to see you," the receptionist's equally polite voice informed her, filtering through the speaker of the box, "by the name of Mako?"

Asami felt her brow tighten as she frowned. "Ah," she said after a moment.

The receptionist had become rather good at reading the tone of her voice. She lowered her own a fraction as she spoke. "Would you like me to -?"

"No, that's alright," Asami interrupted the woman. "I just need five minutes. Send him up afterwards."

"Yes, Ms. Sato."

Asami lifted her finger away from the grey button and released a soft sigh. It had been two days since his birthday, and neither had made an attempt to contact the other since. Such an interval had of course occurred before between them; they did not speak each and every day, but for some reason (Well, she was aware of the reason. Or at least thought she was.) this period of non-communication felt different.

Asami stepped away from the wall, granting the box upon it a lingering look before she turned away and headed for her bedroom.

* * *

As he turned onto West Slate Road, his hands tucked into his pockets, Mako lifted his gaze skyward, taking in the high rise buildings that occupied both sides of the street. The building he sought was not one recognisable to him at a glance, and so he walked slowly along the length of the street, turning his eyes left and right to read the name-bearing plaques attached to the walls of the towering structures.

Mako's mood was disgruntled after having had to walk over here from the hospital. It was a long journey he would not have needed to make had his motorcycle not given up the ghost. He tried to start the thing only a few times, eventually in vexation ripping his keys from the ignition and simply leaving the thing to stand on its lonesome in the hospital parking lot, at the moment uncaring as to its fate. His thoughts were all over the place, and they had not been coherent for the past few days. Right now, they were in a state of disarray, and he did not know how to put them back into order. As such, Mako was not quite certain why he was going to visit Asami.

His eyes spotted the plaque bearing the name of her building, and Mako jogged over to the other side of the street when a gap appeared in the flow of evening traffic. He pushed through the heavy glass doors into the quiet, empty lobby of the apartment building, its granite floor buffed to a shine and patterned with narrow burgundy lines that met and crossed over each other at right angles. Two couches of matching brown hues sat against the wall across from each other towards the middle of the room. Both were accompanied by small, angular shaped pots filled with smooth grey stones, from which sprouted the skinny trunk of a tree as tall as his shoulders.

Mako walked across the lobby to the receptionist's area. The attention of the woman occupying it shifted at the sound of his footsteps upon the granite tiling. She appeared to push aside something he could not see from his side of the curved, dark and polished desk, looking up and smiling politely as he approached her. She was of Earth Kingdom heritage, he noted unconsciously, her dark hair fashioned short into a tidy bob and her brown eyes gentle and open.

"Hello," the receptionist said, folding her hands into her lap. "How may I help you?"

"Hi," he said, "I'm Mako. Could you tell me which floor I would find Asami Sato on?"

The woman's smile remained in place, but Mako could see the minute tightening of her expression, a certain wariness rising to her eyes. Asami had told him she would let the receptionist know about him, hadn't she?

"Just one moment," the woman told him, drawing a black telephone stand embossed with a small, faded gold logo at its base towards her. Something of a bemused frown began to rise to Mako's face as the receptionist sat with the listening device cupped against her ear, smiling up at him intermittently as they both waited. When her expression shifted, he knew that the person they were both waiting for to answer the call had done so.

"Ms. Sato, there is a man here to see you, by the name of Mako?"

The woman glanced at him after a moment, and then when she spoke again, Mako did not miss the almost conspiratorial look she quickly gave him, or the fact that she lowered her voice a fraction as though he would not hear her anyway.

"Would you like me to -?" she began, and then paused almost immediately. After another moment of silence, the woman nodded and said "Yes, Ms. Sato" before setting down the telephone and turning to him. "Sixteenth floor," she told him, "apartment 1216."

"1216," Mako repeated. "Thanks."

The receptionist smiled in return, not long after he turned his back to her retrieving her magazine.

Mako walked over to the pair of elevators he had spotted on his way into the building, pushing the button bearing an arrow pointing upwards. He was not made to wait too long for his to come along, stepping inside once the doors slid open. He traced his finger up the long list of numbered buttons upon the wall as the doors closed, swiftly finding and pushing the one he sought. As the elevator rattled momentarily and he felt the brief sensation of his stomach sinking, Mako leaned against the wall and turned to meet the pair of golden eyes looking back at him.

He wondered why the mirror, stretching across the back wall, had been placed there in the first place, but shrugged mentally at the thought. He did not watch his reflection for long as the elevator noisily carried him upwards. He could see his thoughts, cluttered within his eyes. It was enough to have to listen to them, crowding calm and clarity out of his head. Again, as the doors of the elevator slid open, he wondered what he was doing here.

Once Mako had walked down the long corridor, briefly turning his gaze upon the numbers emblazoned on the doors he passed by, he found Asami's. He knocked a little more sharply than intended. It was pulled open after a few silent, stretching moments. When it was, Mako was not sure whether he ought to gaze at the woman in front of him, or the vast room behind her.

Her hair was pulled back, tied into a loose ponytail and sitting close to her neck. As he had opened his door to her two days prior clothed merely in a vest and sweatpants, so too did she, though the vest was exchanged for a faded green tank top and her sweatpants were a dark shade of grey rather than black. But his attention was drawn to her face, where she was wearing neither the plum red lipstick or pale shade of lilac eyeliner he was so accustomed to seeing. In fact, Asami appeared to be wearing no makeup at all.

It was the first time he had seen her without it, and its absence helped Mako realise how little of it she wore in the first place. There was no remarkable difference such that he had to double take at the sight of the woman in front of him. Altogether, Asami looked comfortable, he thought, relaxed and in her element. She smiled up at him, the curve of her pale pink lips small.

"Well, this is a surprise."

Mako lifted his eyes to the room behind her, and then lowered them again to meet hers. "I think I can say the same," he said.

Asami chuckled low in her throat and stood aside to let him pass. "Come in."

He did, shrugging his coat from his shoulders when she asked him for it, which left him in his brown jacket and trousers. He paused after a few steps as she pushed the door closed behind him.

"Um. My shoes…" Mako began uncertainly.

Asami walked past him, making a lazy gesture with her hand that he was not sure how to read. He decided to leave them on, and after she set aside his coat followed her into the wide space of the apartment.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked him over her shoulder.

Mako nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

"I envy you," he spoke almost immediately as he cast his eyes about the place. And when Asami led him over to a small, curved bar set against the wall, the smooth black granite of its surface seeming to shimmer, and reached down to retrieve a pair of cocktail glasses, Mako repeated himself. "Oh, I definitely envy you."

Asami smiled graciously. "This is just a more elaborate way to keep my alcohol out of sight," she said.

"Sure," Mako said, watching her pull up an array of richly colourful bottles. "But I wasn't just talking about this," he continued, tapping the bar top. "I don't think I should even dare to guess how much bigger your apartment is compared to mine."

"I like your apartment," Asami said, tipping each of the bottles briefly over the edge of a silver, cylindrical container. "It's comfortable."

As the words left her mouth, her hands seemed to pause for a moment. Mako felt himself straighten involuntarily. Asami's eyes were fixed upon the gleaming cocktail shaker as she lifted it. Mako cleared his throat and moved away from the bar, walking towards the pair of low, black sofas sitting in front of the large panels of glass where a wall should be. He stood in front of the windows, hands tucked into his trouser pockets.

The view of the city captured him more completely than he would have thought it could, particularly as he had once called his abode the attic of the Pro-Bending Arena, which possessed more than something of a good view. However, Yue Bay and Air Temple Island presented a markedly different palette and tone to the evening cityscape. Mako could see the dark, oblong shapes of airships high above beneath the knots and wisps of faded grey cloud. Pinpricks of yellow light were scattered upon the faces of the tall buildings reaching towards sky, and when he turned his gaze downward, he saw the ribbon of evening traffic threading its way through the streets.

"So, this is the sort of view you wake up to every morning," he called over his shoulder, hearing the rattling of the shaker in Asami's hands finally settle.

"Yeah," she replied a few moments later. He turned to find her walking towards him, the cocktail glasses held between her fingers. "I've sat here and watched the sun rise over the skyline a few times," she said, holding her left hand out to him.

"I'm sure that's something to see," Mako replied, taking a hand from his pocket and accepting the glass. Asami nodded but said nothing more, raising her glass to her lips. Mako did the same.

"How've you been?" he asked Asami as silence threatened to linger, looking across at her.

"The usual," she replied with a small shrug. "Meetings, phone calls, paperwork; nothing too interesting. You?"

"Yeah, I've been alright," Mako said. "You know, work…the usual."

"Mm."

Again, they both lapsed into silence. Mako found that his gaze slipped away from Asami whenever he tried to look at her, his eyes moving back to his drink before rising to look out through the window.

"So, what brings you here?" she asked him, just as he was preparing to clear his throat to speak. Mako affected a smile as he glanced across at her. She was standing more than an arm's length away, her left arm curved around her waist.

"You said I should pop around one of these days," he told her.

The smile Asami gave in return was fleeting. "I remember," she said, her eyes shifting when they met his, eyes that seemed almost as troubled and constrained as he felt. Mako turned back to face the city, his voice low.

"I was just on my way home from visiting Bolin," he said. "I just thought I would come and see you. Come say hi. You know," his voice trailed off.

"Oh."

"I might have to take you up on that offer of a Satomobile," he said after a moment, his tone light.

She glanced at him. "Motorcycle giving you problems again?" Asami said, and he saw that her smile was ever so slightly strained.

"Yeah," he replied. "I think it's really done for this time."

Mako looked across at her again, this time forcing himself to not look away. With his gaze lingering, he noticed that her drink had barely been touched, and that her fingers were clutching tight the thin stalk of the cocktail glass. Her shoulders were set and tense as she clutched her arm about herself, as though she were holding herself still, holding herself back. He called out to her.

"Asami."

She did not turn immediately, and he did not speak again until she had done so. He was looking right at her, eyes golden and yearning.

"Come here," Mako said.

And just like that, she was undone.

His voice was soft, and by his tone she knew he was not demanding but asking of her. She could hear his desire, the two words of his simple request echoing with a promise of things to come. Asami slowly breathed in and out before she answered to it.

When her thumb slipped along the smooth stalk of the cocktail glass, Asami realised her hand was shaking. Just a little. Closing the distance between her and Mako, she found that she could not take her gaze away from his. And then she was standing in front of him. Mako lifted his left hand to cup her cheek, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to have done. Asami let her eyelids fall as he titled her face and leaned forwards.

His lips were sweet, she thought, sweet and soft. Gentle, as he touched them to hers. Asami wanted to experience them again and again, and Mako did not deny her. They kissed slow and chastely, tips of tongues lightly tracing the shape of the other's lips, though not yet seeking entrance. This was not a fiery explosion of passion fuelled by alcohol and desperate need for the warmth and comfort of another's body. This was a gently simmering heat, one that gave them time to explore, to appreciate, and to enjoy.

Asami lifted her free hand, slowly and deftly loosening the buttons of his jacket. Afterwards, she traced a path up towards his chest with her fingers, allowing them to settle there and enjoying the firm plane of muscle beneath his shirt. Mako smiled against her mouth when she caught his lower lip between her teeth. He tilted his head, better moulding the shape of his lips to hers, and Asami murmured softly into the kiss. When they parted, she lowered her hand to his wrist. Mako chuckled as she drew him away from the window and over to the pair of sofas. Both took healthy sips of their cocktails before planting the glasses down on the coffee table.

Asami straddled him when Mako sat down on the right hand sofa, his hands at her waist drawing her down with him. Looping her arms around his shoulders after they had gotten him out his jacket, Asami leaned down to meet Mako's lips, pressing herself into him. They kissed long and deep, steadily stoking each other's passion.

She felt Mako's hands gliding over her body, his left marking a path upwards from her hip. The tips of his fingers seemed to inadvertently catch the hem of her tank top. She could not help but smile as she felt the warmth of his touch briefly upon her skin. His right hand curved below the small of her back, drawing Asami further into him. She drew away from his mouth, grinning as she slowly rolled her hips and witnessed his gaze grow heavy with desire.

"You look good like this," Mako said in a low, silky voice, eyes dipping to take in her form.

Asami had only been thinking of the five minutes she had to make herself look decent. She pulled on the first things she laid her eyes upon, quickly fashioning her hair into a loose tail and hoping that Mako would not feel awkward with her rather casual appearance. His hastily rearranged expression when she pulled open the door after smoothing down her top seemed to say very much otherwise, however.

"Yeah?" she murmured against his lips, her tone sultry. His response was to capture hers, and the subsequent kiss, hard and hungry, left her wanting for breath.

In retaliation, Asami moved her hips again, her hands gripping the back of the sofa for leverage. She poised her mouth above his, breathing against his lips but keeping hers just out of reach. She caught his eyes and held them, refusing him permission to blink. When she made an elaborately slow circle with her hips and bit playfully into her lower lip, Asami found pleasure in the way unrestrained hunger fed the heat of his eyes.

"Mmm," Mako groaned, his head tilting backwards. His hands were sitting at her waist, but one moved as impatience took him, reaching up to the back of her neck and drawing her down.

"I want you, Asami," he husked against her throat, his lips moist and breath hot upon her skin afterwards. "I _need_ you."

His words pierced through the fog that had settled upon her mind, and in that single moment she hated him for it. But then, as her body stiffened and hips fell still, Asami remembered her thoughts, remembered the small voice in her head that she had toiled with right up to the moment of Mako calling her name. He brought his lips to hers again, but Asami was unresponsive. She fought to be, because it was all too easy to let herself slip again. She fought to remain still and cold as his hands dipped to the hem of her top, his intent clear, and his desire hot and flush against her.

It took a great effort to stop him, to reach down and grasp his wrist and refuse him. It took greater strength than what was required to haul herself up on a cool bar of steel, or to push thick discs of iron into the air when her body was tight with pain. But she did it. She had promised herself, long before and now.

"Asami?" Mako said, looking up at her as she caught his hand. "What's wrong?"

She did not answer him immediately; instead, she took a long moment to gather her breath and cool the heat of her passion.

"We can't do this," Asami told him then, and after releasing his hand climbed off him and stood to her feet. After a moment of staring at her with utter confusion written upon his features, Mako stood with her.

"Asami, what -?"

"Mako," she cut across him, turning as she reached the windows and holding a hand out in front of her. "No," she told him. She resolved to be blunt and waste no words. It would be better for both of them. "We can't do this."

"We've already done it," he argued, tie hanging loose and lopsided around his neck.

"And it shouldn't have happened," Asami said sharply, both to him and to herself. "You were drunk –"

"I knew exactly what I was doing –"

"I took advantage of you –"

"You didn't. Asami, I knew –"

"Mako, _listen to me_," she spoke over him.

Asami could not keep still, folding her arms underneath her chest as she turned first to face the window and then back to face him. She could meet his gaze and then she couldn't, lifting her hand to her brow and casting a shadow over her eyes.

"Relationships don't work for me, Mako," Asami began, and as she spoke his gaze dropped away. "I've learned that the hard way, again and again. Eventually, I decided to stop seeking them. There's only so much hurt and rejection and disappointment one person can take. But then you showed up in my life again, Mako," she said, eyes upon the floor. "You showed up, and I wanted you. I wasn't sure how, or in what way, but I wanted you."

Asami dropped her hand and turned away to face the city and darkening sky once more, exhaling long and slowly.

"You were drunk, Mako," she said quietly, "drunk and confused. I saw you like that and…I knew what I wanted. I wanted to have you all to myself. I wanted to be intimate with someone I could trust not to run to the newspapers the morning after. I wanted to be close to you, to feel you, to…" but she shook her head, her voice trailing away.

Mako came up behind her, footsteps resounding in the silence. "I wanted you too, Asami."

His arms were sliding around her waist, drawing her against his chest, and Asami was all too aware of his warmth and strong presence, wanting nothing more than to give in and sink wholly into his embrace, to close her eyes and tilt her head and float away upon the feather-light kisses he would scatter upon her throat. But it was a fantasy that she had entertained for long enough, and the supposed reality of it now did nothing to obscure the truth from her gaze.

Asami stepped out of Mako's embrace, shrugging away his hand when it touched her shoulder.

"Asami," he said, his voice tinged with frustration and bewilderment. "What's the problem?"

She turned to face him.

"The problem is that I can't have you, Mako," Asami answered, her voice brittle. "I can never have you, not the way I want to. I was never meant to have you. And despite that, I still want you."

"_I_ want _you_," he told her again, lifting his hands to her arms. But she shook her head.

"You don't understand," Asami said. "I've wanted you for years, Mako, but you only desire me now, when she isn't here."

And at that, his hands slowly parted contact from her skin. Asami smiled bitterly.

"See?" she said, watching his eyes grow clouded. But then after a moment, Mako shook his own head and his gaze took on a furious intensity when he levelled it at her.

"She isn't here," he echoed her. "She left me, and left me with nothing. She's gone. I don't know where to, and I don't care. I've wasted enough time caring. I'm through with it. I'm through with her."

Asami turned away before he had finished speaking, staring through their dim reflections upon the window.

"No you aren't."

"Asami –"

"Let's say we tried this again," she said, looking out into the night. "Let's say a month goes by, and then out of the blue, she returns. Let's say a week goes by, and then out of nowhere, she comes back."

Asami paused, her arms tight across her body as she turned her eyes to Mako once more. His face was a façade of determined resolution she could see crumbling as she spoke.

"Let's say we try this again, Mako, and Korra shows up at your door tomorrow. What then? What would you do?"

In the silence that followed, Asami watched him swallow his attempt to answer more than once. He could not meet her gaze for longer than a second at a time. She watched the restraints begin to bend and break, and saw the tightness in the muscles lining his jaw as his eyes began to cloud over.

"You would leave me," she told him.

It hurt more than Asami would ever admit to say it. It hurt because she had not forgiven, not truly. But it was not Mako who was the cause of her resentment. He had not been the one to selfishly force their way into a space in which they had no right to be. He was not the one who took something from her that she held so close to her heart, something that gave her reason to wake up with a smile, and then abandoned her to face the trials of recovering her name and dignity alone. Asami had been prepared to forgive, prepared to try and start their friendship anew. But never did she receive a word of apology.

Mako shook his head and argued uselessly against the truth. So she told him again, and he refused to hear it. Asami told him a third time, and Mako turned away from her, breathing hard. Each time she spoke the truth was akin to twisting the cold, steel blade, reminding her of the pain she had learned to accept and live with. And it hurt all the more because as she watched his back and clutched herself tightly, Asami knew that she could not comfort Mako the way she wanted to.

"You never belonged to me," she said then, and he turned at the sound of her voice, eyes shining. "You're not your own," Asami told him, and then her jaw tightened, bitterness and anger threatening to steal her voice, and for a long moment she was more than willing to let them have it. "We both know who your heart belongs to," she spoke finally.

Mako folded and collapsed onto her sofa, his face hidden beneath his hands.

Asami took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mako," she said. "I shouldn't have done what I did."

"No," he said after a while, lowering his hands. "I shouldn't have let myself do it."

She could not bear to see the guilt written into his features, and to look at him only reminded her of where they had been and what they had been doing mere minutes ago. Asami turned away.

"Forget it happened," she said. "Just forget it all."

"I can't."

"It meant nothing, for either of us," she added forcefully. "Just forget that night, Mako."

He laughed, and only when he continued to do so did Asami turn back to him. He sat at the edge of the sofa, hands hanging between his legs and his eyes upon the floor. He shook his head as a bead of moisture rolled down his cheek. Asami could not be sure whether or not it was a product of his laughter.

"You're right, Asami. About everything," he said, and at the tone and slight tremble of his voice, concern sprung up from within her. "You're always right."

Her brow furrowed. "Mako…"

"I went to visit my brother," he told her again, still looking at the ground. "Do you know what he said to me? He asked me 'hey bro, how's the investigation going?' Of course, I didn't know what he was talking about, so I asked him. He looked at me as though I'd said the strangest thing. 'The police investigation, obviously,' he tells me, and when I ask him what for, he says 'for what happened to me'."

Mako sat up then, leaning his back heavily against the sofa's rest and looking to a point ahead of him. Asami recognised his expression. He was seeing something that was not there.

"I laughed at him, my little brother, the only family I have left. Can you believe that?" he asked. Asami remained silent. "I say to him 'You want an investigation for that, Bo? You got a little too excited and managed to total the car in the process. That's all.' That's what I tell him," Mako said, his expression darkening. He lifted his hand and gestured towards her without turning.

"He didn't laugh or smile, Asami. Do you know what he did? He looked at me as though he was worried. For _me_, when he is lying there _broken._ He looked at me and he said 'Bro, I was driven off the road.' And I believed him, because he's my little brother. But by then it's too late. I should have believed you," Mako said, turning to face her. His eyes dropped away after a few moments. "You tried to tell me, back then, but I didn't listen to you. I didn't listen because Bolin is my brother, and I thought I knew him and every aspect of his life better than he did."

"What did he tell you?" she prompted him quietly when he lapsed into silence.

Heavily, Mako stood to his feet, hands tucked into his pockets as he walked over to stand in front of the windows. Asami saw upon his face a blanket of calm, one that would precede a storm.

"He told me it was the triads that did it, the Triple Threats," Mako clarified for her sake, nodding as he spoke. "He told me that he pestered the hospital staff to call the police on his behalf the moment he woke up. He told them everything that he told me, and they told _him_ that they would look into it. That was over three weeks ago," he said. "In that time, I've heard nothing from anyone about what really happened to my brother, not until I heard it from his own lips. Nothing."

Asami spoke again when he refused to. "Did you check with -?"

"Of course I did," Mako snapped, glaring at her with narrowed eyes. "I called in before I left the damn hospital. I asked about Bolin's case, and was told exactly what I told him. There is no case; there won't be an investigation. He was speeding, and he crashed. Witnesses' accounts confirm that. So that's it. End of conversation. Case closed."

His head ducked, shoulders growing tense. His jaw was a tight line, pressing his lips thin. Asami saw the anger in Mako's expression ebb, and instead something heavy settled upon him, something that was too much for him to handle on his own. She took a step towards him, hesitant and tentative, and then paused as though sensing a reaction from him. All that Mako did was let his eyes meet hers, and in them she saw his distress.

"Mako, what happened to Bolin wasn't your –"

"I'm supposed to protect him," he said sharply. "I'm supposed to make sure he stays safe.

"You couldn't have known," Asami said. "None of us could have."

"I should have," Mako argued, shaking his head. "I should have."

"You're just one man, Mako. You can't do everything."

"I can't do _anything_," he growled, and then more softly said, "I can't do anything right."

Asami reached out to him, placing a hand upon his arm. But she felt no strength in the gesture, her desire to comfort the man before her restrained. And she could see it as Mako met her gaze, his eyes withdrawn and empty, and his face lined with pain. Eventually, as both grew ever more aware of the wall that stood between them, Mako moved away from her. Asami watched her hand drop away, and felt her palm grow cool in the absence of his warmth. She closed her eyes, hardly daring to breathe. When she opened them again, Asami turned to find Mako shrugging on his jacket, back turned to her.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Home," he replied.

"Let me drop you back," she said, watching him carefully.

"That's alright. I'll walk."

And Asami somehow knew that 'home' was not his intended destination. His voice was toneless, betraying not a hint of emotion. Asami recognised that cold sense of resolution which preceded a pivotal choice. Maybe she could not be all that she wanted to for Mako, but despite that Asami would not let him walk himself into trouble, and she could read in his body and his voice the very intention to do so, even if he himself did not yet recognise it.

"Mako," she called, and she did not speak again until he turned. "Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't. Please."

His eyes narrowed despite her words.

"I have to know, Asami," he said. "My little brother…I have to know _why_."

"Mako," she said, approaching him once more. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to find the man who will answer my question," he told her. "I'm going to find him."

Asami watched him walk away. She watched as he retrieved his coat and pulled open her front door without waiting to put it back on. He paused before he stepped over the threshold into the corridor beyond, chin dropping towards his chest and his body turning as though to face her. She waited, but all that he eventually gave was an imperceptible shake of the head.

Asami brought her hands up to her face and released a sigh as he stepped through the door, pulling it shut behind him. She did nothing more for a long moment other than gaze into the darkness behind her eyelids. Afterwards, when she had composed herself, Asami swiftly walked over to the speakerbox attached to the wall.

"Ms. Sato?" answered the quiet voice of the receptionist.

"My guest is making his way down to the lobby. I need you to keep him busy, just for a few moments."

"Understood, Ms. Sato," replied the woman.

Asami lifted her finger from the grey button, and not a few seconds later slipped out into the corridor herself.


	20. Chapter 20

She was on the floor, broken. Weeping as she clutched herself tight. Korra thought she knew what pain was. She was mistaken.

This was worse than all the trips, knocks, scrapes and burns she suffered throughout her years of training. Worse than the feeling of Amon's power, violating every inch of her being as he scourged her of her bending. Worse than a polar bear dog's claw ripping into her flesh.

How absurd, Korra thought in moments of lucidity, how absurd that this pain was so much more. How absurd that this anguish had left her in pieces, that it could tear her heart from her breast and make every breath short and brittle. How absurd that the Avatar, the hope and pillar of strength to the very world itself, could break. But that was what she was, here and now in the darkness of her room as she lay on the floor with shards of a shattered bottle at her feet; broken.

And what Korra found so strange was that she felt herself embracing the notion.

The years and the trials she had faced taught her that despite the inheritance of her birth, she was still human. Only human. But yet she continued to show the world a brave face and a stance of utter solidarity. Even when she was alone, Korra kept up what she was gradually coming to understand as a façade. Yes, she was strong, and yes, she was determined. But she was not invulnerable, physically or emotionally. She could hurt, she could fall, and she could break. And so Korra came to understand a different kind of strength, as she lay there with tear stained cheeks and knees drawn to her chest: the strength it took to let herself break, all so that she could rebuild that self anew.

When her trembling receded enough so that she could stand, Korra dragged herself over to her bed and fell upon it. Such fatigue as she had never before known claimed her the moment her head touched the pillow. She woke again to find that the process was not ended. There were still tears to be shed and words to be raggedly whispered from a sore throat. She called in sick for work, and Korra did not think the excuse was far from the truth. Her stomach accepted no food or water. Even when it grumbled in protest, her appetite had simply vanished. The only thing she could touch to her lips was a cigarette.

Korra was not sure whether it was her imagination or simply the poor quality of the cigarette, but the taste of the smoke was harsh upon her tongue, each pull stinging rather than soothing. But perhaps that was what she needed, not a means to lull deep into her miasmic thoughts, but to wake up from them. She grew a little calmer as the ring of heat chewed its way towards her lips, standing beside the wall next to the open window and releasing smoke out into the hazy air. She thought she could feel her thoughts gradually settling into order.

At one point during the day, Korra found her answer. She pulled herself up from the bed and found a pen and sheet of paper. Then, she sat down to write the letter. Why she hadn't done this before now, Korra did not know. Her eyes were resolute, her thoughts no longer chaotic as she brought the tip of the pen to rest upon the paper. She would tell him everything, she decided. She would say all the things she should have said. The pen, however, refused to inscribe anything beyond his name. It was at fault, of course. She stared at it, and then flung the pen far across the room. The abandoned letter slowly grew blotched with moisture, and Korra lay her head to rest that night with reddened eyes, the silence punctuated with soft hiccoughs.

She could not sleep, so instead she gazed up at the ceiling and through the window to the night beyond. As she lay there, a thought occurred to her and bemused, Korra considered it. Perhaps this was a test, a cruel machination of the Spirits designed to show her that the Avatar's pursuit of love was folly, and that duty would always separate them from those they cared for. Perhaps this was all meant to show her that it was better not to love at all, that there was no room in her life for it, and that all it would deal her was pain.

Korra eventually laughed at how bloody stupid that thought was.

She rose with the sun the next day and did not bother to call in to work again. She forced herself out of her bed and into the bathroom, taking great care in tidying herself up. She dressed and got ready to go out. She was running low on food and needed fresh air. Korra cleaned up the remnants of the beer bottle on the way out and retrieved the pen from the corner of the room.

She had to blink against the daylight when she stepped onto the street. Korra knew her face was notably drawn with tiredness when the keeper of her local grocery store asked if she was well. She answered the kindly woman in the affirmative, politely declining a shared pot of tea (Korra made her visit quite early and the day's business had yet to be conducted). She walked slowly back home, bags clutched in hand, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and breathing deeply the crisp morning air. But there seemed to be no inspiration to be found upon it.

Once she stepped back inside, Korra pondered the idea to meditate. The attempt did not last long. Instead, she found herself sitting on the floor with her back resting against the side of the bed, hands at her sides as she gazed at the wall. Even if she could have achieved it, Korra did not seek an utter emptiness of her thoughts. She needed to organise and inspect them, to see them for what they were. Eventually, she turned to the watch lying upon the bedside table. She drew it towards her and gently pulled it apart. As all its pieces, great and infinitesimal, revolved in the air before her eyes and she studied them, Korra began to understand.

It all boiled down to her nature. She met all that life could throw at her head-on, stubbornly, fearlessly, obeying not the whispers of fate and reason but the tightening of her gut, obeying only the clutch of ethereal fingers about her heart that squeezed and pumped her blood fast and strong through her body. That was why as she stood opposite Mako underneath the golden pavilion, listening to his stuttering, false starts and excuses, Korra damned all her doubts and second guessing and trusted instinct, trusted what she _knew_ to be right.

She could not write that letter because she knew it would only serve as a poor imitation of her true self. It could never speak for her as she could speak for herself, face to face with the man who held her heart in his hands.

And there it was, the answer, plain and simple. Korra needed to see him, to speak to him, with her own eyes and voice. Wishful thinking, desperate hoping and the crafting of letter upon letter had not and would not solve her problems. The answer was simply that she had to go back, go back and face the music. Face Mako. She had her piece to say and she would say it, and after that…after that, she would accept whatever the outcome might be.

Korra took a deep, trembling breath at that thought. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly afterwards, turning her hand through the air and listening to the watch reassemble itself. Yes, she would accept it. She would bare herself before him, and that was all she could do.

* * *

Gan absentmindedly tapped the end of his pen upon the table, glancing up towards the door and berating himself each and every time. The briefing room was slowly filling up with his colleagues, and he had been particularly punctual today. He engaged the man who took the seat next to him in brief conversation, needing a distraction more than anything else, both from his thoughts and his need to see Serra walk through that door.

She had been absent for the past two days. On the first, when Gan had sat watching the door more than paying attention to the team leader's words, he was informed that his partner had called in sick. In the two years that he had worked alongside her, Gan could not recall Serra ever taking a day off before. He was partnered with another officer for that day and the one that followed, but Gan would have very much preferred to be alone for all it was worth. He was familiar with the man, but the rapport he shared with Serra simply was not there. The ease of conversation, the jokes, the teasing, the smiles and laughter – Gan had wished for nothing more than the day to end.

When he closed his eyes, he could see nothing but that night, tainted bittersweet. And with each consideration, it was becoming increasingly bitter. Was it worth it, the mere moment in which he tasted her lips and experienced her intimate warmth? Was it worth it when afterwards all he had reaped was a stalwart wall of silence? How could it be worth it when she refused to look at him? And when she eventually did, her eyes had been so cold.

One moment, that was all it took. Gan had never imagined that something so small could cause so much damage. But it had. He could see it in her face, in the tightness of her jaw and the set of her shoulders. He could see it in the way her hands trembled as she stepped out of his car, in the way she slammed the door shut so hard the whole thing rocked when he offered to walk her up to her apartment.

The door to the briefing room was pushed open once more, and despite himself Gan turned to look.

Serra walked in.

Her uniform neat and her hair tidily arranged in a knot at the back of her head, she clutched her cap beneath her arm and her notepad and pen in her left hand. Her expression was plain, and she neither smiled nor frowned. But Gan could see the tiredness in her face. She did not turn her eyes to the room at length to try and find him, but moved towards the second row of tables without hesitation, taking her seat at its end. Equal parts relief, disappointment and apprehension filled him as he surreptitiously watched her back, trying to get a better grasp of her mood. If she felt her eyes upon him, Serra did not show it. She made no move to turn in his direction, conversing very briefly with the officer beside her.

When it was time for the briefing to commence, the seats having been filled and the door swinging shut in the wake of the least punctual officer of the day, the team leader rose from his seat with folders once more clutched in hand. The man's gaze more or less immediately fell upon Serra when he took his place behind the podium.

"Serra."

"Sir," she answered as silence fell upon the room.

"I wasn't informed of your absence yesterday," the man said.

"My apologies. I felt like crap."

After a long moment, the team leader gave a half smile. "You look like you could've done with the rest today."

"If you wouldn't mind giving me permission."

Gan could not see her face, but he could hear the smile that crept into her voice. Their team leader shook his head.

"Looks like you're in for an honest day's work," he told her.

She gave a small shrug. "Well, I tried."

"We'll do you a favour and keep you off your feet for the day," the man told her, before moving on to begin the briefing proper.

Once it had run its course, which did not take too long, Gan was reunited with his partner and both tasked with patrol car duties. At first, the prospect brightened him. It would mean he could get to talk to Serra properly and in private about that night, and the need to reconcile with her had been eating away at him to the point that it robbed him of sleep. He had woken surly that morning, giving thanks for small favours that Hana was already halfway out the front door as he blinked against intrusive sunlight. However, as their day began and despite his relief that Serra was there, Gan soon found himself beginning to wish for its end.

She did not ignore him when he greeted her as they left the briefing room. Her response did not feel stiff or forced as their fellow officers milled around them making their way to their various posts for the day. However, she refused to meet his eyes, even when he tried to search for her gaze. Her responses to his conversational questions thereafter were monosyllabic, and by the time they reached the lobby and approached a clerk's desk to collect the keys to their patrol car, a thick silence had grown between them.

Serra made no effort to converse with him throughout the morning. For the majority of it, she sat with her elbow resting against the door and her chin sitting upon the heel of her palm, eyes pointed out the window. Gan turned on the radio to fill the unfamiliar silence, the patrol car feeling unusually tight and small. He had imagined long and fitfully what he might say to her, how he would apologise for his actions and hopefully have her forgive him. But with every passing hour in her presence, Gan was less and less certain of his intentions.

All the while, as he tried to muster the courage to broach the subject that had driven a wedge clean between them, he remembered her eyes. He remembered how they had drained utterly of warmth, fixing him instead with something cold and sharp, something bordering on dangerous. Had she lashed out at him, right then and there, it would not have surprised him. But she hadn't. Serra reined herself in, as he had failed to, and instead such pain and confusion filled her eyes. He had not expected that. In the heat of the moment, Gan imagined only that she would feel the same way he did, that he was doing the work for both of them and making plain the true nature of their relationship. They could be much more than friends, he had thought. And how wrong he had been.

When they stopped for lunch, Serra told him firmly that she wasn't hungry when he asked her what she wanted from the vendor. He set a brown paperbag on the dashboard when he returned several minutes later, opening his own as he kept his partner in the corner of his eye. Her gaze turned away from the window to the silently proffered meal, lingering but eventually being pulled away. Gan tried to hide his smile when her stomach complained. With an irritable sigh, she complied with the needs of her appetite and practically snatched the bag from the dashboard, pulling it open as though it had wronged her. Serra paused upon seeing its contents.

"Thanks," she said quietly, before dipping her hand into the bag and drawing out a dumpling.

Gan decided to nod rather than speak, and they ate in silence afterwards. Once both of them had finished however, Gan decided that he would not start the car again until he had said what he needed to say.

"Serra."

She made no effort to reply to him.

"Serra?" he tried again.

"I'm right here," she said curtly.

"Could you at least look at me?" he asked her.

Serra relented eventually. Her gaze was cool upon him, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"I'm looking. I'm listening," she said.

"I'm sorry," Gan said in earnest, though the words somehow felt weak as they tripped off his tongue.

"Fine," Serra replied, and the moment silence fell she had turned back to look out through the window.

"Fine?" Gan repeated, hesitant as he stared at the side of her head.

"You're sorry," she said. "That's great."

But Gan could read in her tone that the matter was far from resolved.

"Look, Serra, I don't what else I can say to you," he began. "I didn't mean to fall for you the way I have – the way I did," Gan amended quickly when he saw her shoulders stiffen. "It's just…you're an amazing woman, Serra."

"I'm flattered," she said tonelessly. "Should I fall into bed with you now because you've offered me a few compliments?"

"Serra, that's not I want."

She turned to him, her tone harsh. "No? Then why did you kiss me? What else could you have wanted?"

"I just…I just wanted you to know how I felt about you," Gan replied

"That's how you should feel about your wife, not me."

Gan snorted, turning to face his own window. "Right. You have no idea what my wife is like, Serra. You don't know a damn thing about living under the same roof as her day after day."

"So I was supposed to be your little fix when things got rough at home," she said bluntly.

"I don't know what you were supposed to be!" Gan said, turning to her again. "All I knew, Serra, was that you were on my mind every moment I wasn't with you. Being with you was the best part of my day, and at the end of it I couldn't wait for the next one."

"Then why didn't you just _tell_ me how you felt?" she said. "Why, Gan, instead of taking advantage and tricking me into doing something I didn't want to do? Because that's what hurts me," Serra continued, her expression tight. "I trusted you as a friend, and you took that trust and abused it."

"I'm sorry," he said. It was all he could say.

Serra laughed without humour and shook her head. It was a bitter sound, and she turned back to face the window without making another.

"Serra," he began again, bringing a hand up as though to touch her shoulder. It paused in the air as he hesitated, and then lowered as he thought better of it. "I'm sorry. I am. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to take advantage of your trust. I…what I did was stupid. I can't and won't deny that. I'm sorry, Serra."

She said nothing, merely shifting minutely in her seat.

"Serra –"

"We've got a long day ahead of us," she interrupted him. "Let's just get to it."

Gan did not know what to say in reply. Reluctantly, he turned his eyes away from her and to the road in front of them. He lowered his hands to the key in the ignition and turned it, bringing the patrol car to life once more. Only the rumble of the engine punctuated their silence as they pulled away from the kerb.

* * *

The burn that seared through his muscles served to be a much desired distraction from his thoughts. Gan gritted his teeth as he hefted the weight into the air once more. His arms were threatening to lock up; he could feel it intuitively. Nevertheless, he stubbornly persisted. The clank of machinery met his ear from either direction, punctuated by grunts of effort that joined the medley of his own. There were several voices joined in conversation, but Gan forgot each word as soon as the next was spoken. He had eyes only for the silver bar in his grip, and focus only for the strength needed to pump it up away from his chest.

He ignored sensibility when his body told him it could do no more, demanding of it when it had nothing else left to give. Frustration and anger could only fuel his muscles for so long, and even then the strength they gave him was fleeting. The bar teetered when he pushed it upwards again, his arms trembling as his balance went awry. He grunted with a strained voice as he felt it slip further out of his control.

"Shit."

There were hurried footsteps and then a pair of hands curling quickly around the middle of the bar, preventing its inevitable fall. For a moment, wildly, Gan thought it was Serra. But it couldn't be, for no sooner had they returned to the station with their shift ended had she packed up her things and left.

They had shared words few and far between since their lunchtime break, speaking only when absolutely necessary and there were no alternatives to hand. She left without a farewell, without a single look back at him, and Gan wanted so very much and suddenly to lay into something with his fists. Rather than be the cause of embarrassment by enacting that desire upon the nearest wall, Gan found himself in the station's gym. Now, he found himself rescued from the verge of injuring himself by a fellow officer, who helped him guide the weighted bar back to its rack. The frame of the bench rattled when they settled it into place.

"You trying to kill yourself, man?"

"Thought I had it," Gan grumbled in reply, lifting himself into a sitting position.

His saviour slapped him on the shoulders. "No harm in asking for a spot. Would be an embarrassing way to lose an officer."

Gan forced his laughter in response. "That it would. Thanks," he said, rising from the bench.

The man shrugged. "Hey. No problem."

He could feel the strain in his muscles already as he rolled his shoulders. That wasn't a good sign. But he realised that it could have been a lot worse. As he made his way across the room, threading between machinery and their users, he remembered having playfully warned Serra that such an incident would occur to her. The irony almost amused him. The shift in his expression was less a smile and more a grimace. Gan headed for the changing rooms, lifting a hand to massage his left shoulder.

After showering and dressing, all in a silent, sullen mood, Gan emerged from the changing rooms into the corridors of the station. His right hand slipped into his trouser pocket as he walked in the direction of the lobby, fingers curling around the cool metal of car keys. He turned to look over his shoulder as his name rang out through the corridor before he turned a corner, several other men and women looking up at the sound of the voice.

The man that had called for his attention jogged towards him. He was wearing an expression that caused Gan's brow to lift in curiosity. When he neared, the man lifted his hand to Gan's arm, turning in towards him and speaking in a low voice.

"Chief's asking for you, in his office."

"Me?" Gan said, his voice rising in surprise. He was just an average patrol officer.

"Yeah," the man said, his mouth and brow tight as he spoke.

Gan looked at him closely. "What's going on?"

"It's better that you hear it for yourself. I'm sorry."

For the moment, Gan thought the man apologised for not being able to tell him anymore than he had. The curious eyes of fellow officers were upon him as he turned and walked back down the corridor. Something began to urge him forwards more quickly with each step, his stride lengthening as his gut began to clench. He knew not why this uneasiness had settled upon him, but he felt it as clearly as the air rushing past him as he made his way to the Chief's office.

When he reached it, the characters of the man's name and rank printed in large white strokes upon the translucent glass, Gan had to remind himself to knock rather than barge straight in. He took a moment to straighten his jacket, quickly pushing his hands down the front of its length before tugging at the hem. He could see several hazy shapes through the glass as he rapped its surface with his knuckles.

The door was pulled open by a man he immediately recognised as Captain Fa, a tall and imposing figure who was rarely known to smile. It was a common source of amusement among the regular officers that the man's smile often made him appear to be in much discomfort, being more a grimace than anything else. Gan sometimes laughed along with the others, but he thought that he perhaps knew the reason for Fa's ever present severity. He was the right hand man to the deputy chief. And as Gan nodded respectfully to the captain and stepped forward once he stood aside, he saw to his surprise that the deputy chief herself was present too.

The office was square in shape and slightly larger than any other he might have found himself in within the station. A single west facing window allowed light into the room, and along the opposite wall was affixed a pair of shelves, both laden with bulky folders. Behind an L-shaped desk sat Chief Shen, the man's expression grim as he looked up upon Gan's entrance. His eyes were small and their brown hue pale. They could sharpen in an instant to accompany his distinct tone of authority. But as they fell upon him now, Gan saw the man offering a silent understanding and condolence.

He had no idea why the Chief should be looking at him in such a way. It was also beyond him to know why both the deputy chief and Captain Fa, who smartly closed the door behind them, were here too. And then his eyes found the fourth person occupying the room, at whose shoulder his wife was standing.

Gan's throat tightened.

"Where is Akiko?" he asked his sister-in-law, his voice trembling with forced calm. It did not make sense for her to be here without his daughter. She was supposed to pick her up after school and watch over her.

But the woman was sitting hunched in her chair on the opposite side of the desk to Chief Shen. Her hands were full with dampened tissues, the skin around her eyes red and swollen. She rocked forwards and then backwards, her gaze flitting towards him and then away.

The silence in the room was oppressive as Gan slowly looked up to his wife. Her face was hard, a stone sheet upon which was granted no room for emotion. Her arms were folded and her lips pressed tight, but her eyes turned to him. Her narrowed grey eyes, cold and piercing, trembling ever so slightly when they met his.

"Hana," he whispered, "where's our daughter?"

She did not answer him. Her throat undulated as though she swallowed the attempt to try. Gan felt the large hand of the captain upon his shoulder, and then Chief Shen at last broke the silence. His world shattered at the sound of the man's voice.

Beyond his first few words, Gan's mind grew blank. His face fell slack and his strength seemed to flee from his limbs. He stared at the man, disbelieving as his voice appeared to echo through to his hearing from the end of a long, dark tunnel. But the walls that he unconsciously threw up to deny a truth he could not bear to face slowly began to crumble. Behind them was scarlet. It filled his mind with thick smog and tainted his vision.

Captain Fa was a strong man, and an intelligent one. His hand tightened upon Gan's shoulder when he felt him lean forwards. But nothing, _nothing_ was going to stop him. In the next moment, Gan was at the centre of a furious tangle of hands, arms and voices, each pulling, pushing and shouting at him. But his voice was the loudest, and his fingers wrapped themselves into his sister-in-law's coat. He roared at her as she cried, viciously cursing her plea for forgiveness. He gripped her harder as he was pulled away, shaking her when she could not answer his one simple question.

The sight of her became lost to him as tears grew in his eyes, the sound of her voice drowned out by his shout. Strength failed him as the realisation sunk in, his arms slackening. A few moments later he was pinned against the wall, Fa's hands at his shoulders. Hana had her sister in her embrace, muttering words he could not hear as the woman openly sobbed. Chief Shen had rounded his desk, and his gaze was solemn as it met Gan's. But Gan had no care for it or his words. The only thing he needed to see right now was his daughter.

"She's only six," he whispered, trembling in his entirety. "She's just a little girl."

"We'll find her," the captain told him in a voice of iron. "_We'll find her."_

But Gan's voice was not so strong. He sobbed when he spoke, and he had strength only to utter his daughter's name, over and again like a prayer.

"_Akiko."_

* * *

She held her aunt's hand, the fingers of her left curled around the stick of the lollipop. Rich, sweet flavour tingled upon her tongue as Akiko licked it, smiling in content and wondering if her tongue was painted red like a strawberry. They walked along the bustling walkpath, Akiko feeling her aunt gently but firmly tug her towards her as the crowd of people passing by grew thick. She stayed close, her short stride swift to keep up with her aunt's longer ones.

It was sometimes tiring to try and match her pace, especially after a long day at school and with the straps of her bag weighing down her shoulders, but today Akiko was more than happy to comply as she sucked on her lollipop. She let her aunt lead her, and was so engrossed in the sweet taste tingling upon the tip of her tongue and the inside of her cheeks that she was slow to realise they were not taking the usual route home.

"Where are we going, auntie?" Akiko spoke up then, looking up at the woman who resembled her mother.

"To the market," she replied. "I just need to pick up a few things and then we'll be right on home. Okay?"

Akiko's legs were beginning to complain, but she nodded. "Okay," she said, and went right back to enjoying her lollipop.

Her father had taken her to the market before, though he would always pick her up and settle her against his hip as they walked through and inspected the various items on display. Sometimes, he would let her try and convince the vendors to sell them something more cheaply. She was pretty good at that, Akiko thought. She would pretend to be sad and disappointed and they would soon sigh and tell her she was too cute and clever for her own good. "That's my girl," her father would say quietly, and they grinned together as they moved on to the next stall.

Her aunt, however, told Akiko to hold onto her skirts as they stood in front of a stall selling spices. She could feel their strong, peppery scents tickling her nostrils. The market was busy with people, as it always was, and all Akiko could see was a blur of colours and legs as they passed by. She gripped the thin, coarse fabric of her aunt's skirt as instructed, noticing with mild disappointment that the rich red orb of strawberry sweetness was now less than half the size it had been when she unwrapped it. She glanced up as her aunt pulled her handbag around in front of her and rummaged inside, hearing faintly the clink of coins afterwards.

Suddenly, she lurched forwards. Something, or rather someone, had collided heavily with her aunt. Akiko's lollipop was knocked from her hand as her aunt's body stumbled into her. She moaned immediately; strawberry was her favourite flavour.

"Terribly sorry," boomed the loud voice of a man above and behind her as Akiko searched the ground. "I didn't see you there. Terribly sorry."

The voice continued speaking, quickly and loudly as Akiko's eyes widened upon her glimpsing the white stalk of the lollipop. The man was still apologising to her aunt as she made to reach down to the ground. That was when a thick, strong arm circled around her waist and pulled her up into the air.

It was a man, and this man was most definitely not her father. He was already beginning to walk away from her aunt, who was assuring the man who had collided with her that she was fine. Before Akiko could make a sound however, the man carrying her away pressed her against his chest, muffling her voice. And then a hand clutching a thick, sweet-smelling cloth was swiftly pushed in front of her face as she began to struggle.

Moments later, Akiko was a limp weight settled casually against the man's hip, peacefully asleep. They disappeared into the bustling, noisy crowd. Her aunt turned around to find that her niece was no longer standing beside her.


	21. Chapter 21

_"Why are you here, Avatar Korra?"_

_She looked up from the stilled surface of her tea, mildly surprised that he had dispensed with the pleasantries so soon. Korra and the man sat opposite one another with a low coffee table between them. His home office was a comfortable space, tucked away within the house with a garden facing window. The morning light that spilled in through the glass threw lines of gold upon the mahogany cabinets lined against the wall. _

_"You invited me," she answered politely._

_The man smiled. "To my home, yes. To Ba Sing Se, however…"_

_She studied him, as she had done the moment they had sat down together. He was a small man, with a softness to his belly and narrow eyes that glimmered unnervingly. He introduced himself to her as Tao, making no mention of his affiliation to or station within the Dai Li. _

_"I simply wanted to experience living in a different country," she said._

_"A natural impulse," Tao replied, nodding. "Curiosity is such a powerful thing, wouldn't you agree? It is of note, however, that you do not appear to be here in any official capacity. I must ask: is this part of your customary world tour?"_

_"No," Korra said after a brief pause. "I'm here by my own choice."_

_"And living under an alias."_

_Korra affected a smile. "I didn't want to be treated any differently to your average citizen."_

_"But you are the Avatar," Tao said. "Why should you feel the need to hide?"_

_"I'm not hiding," Korra returned politely._

_Silence stretched between them after she had spoken. Gradually, the man's pleasant smile began to fade. He leaned forwards out of his seat and placed his brown, rounded cup down on the table. When he sat back, settling his hands into his lap, Tao regarded Korra with a carefully crafted expression she could not decipher. It was plain and calm, like unperturbed waters veiling the true depths that lay beneath the surface. Korra, despite herself, frowned as the man began to speak._

_"When you have spent the entirety of your official term as the Avatar in Republic City, it struck oddly that you would so suddenly, and so quietly, make yourself absent. We have wondered, though we have not been able to determine, what would be the cause of such action."_

_Korra did not say a word in reply._

_Tao continued. "When a figure with such importance as the Avatar drops off the map, so to speak, one can imagine that it would draw curiosity from numerous parties. Among our priorities is the security of Ba Sing Se, the capital of the Earth Kingdom wherein resides our King. Though the war might be long ago finished, it pays to be safe rather than sorry, wouldn't you agree? Thus our eyes and ears are sharper here. We take particular interest in all those who would seek entrance into this city."_

_"So you discovered me," Korra said then, having set her own hardly touched tea down on the coffee table._

_Tao nodded. "I would encourage you to hold no hard feelings against Chief Shen. He is a man of principle. As an Earth Kingdom citizen, he understands where his loyalties should lie first."_

_"I understand," she replied, though the matter still served to irk her._

_"I hope you can also understand that the secrecy of your entrance into Ba Sing Se and dwelling here served to concern us."_

_"I mean no harm, nor have any ill intentions," Korra said. _

_"So we have been told by your White Lotus, though it is reassuring to hear it from you directly."_

_She could hear the slight challenge in the man's tone however._

_"I'm not here for any other reason but to experience life without the title of Avatar hanging over my head," Korra told him. "I needed to know what that was like. I wanted to be free from certain responsibilities and expectations."_

_"But you chose to take up the responsibilities of a police officer," Tao said._

_"I thought that getting a new perspective on things would be useful, and more than that I still want to help people where I can."_

_The man nodded then and took a moment as though to consider her words, looking down to his hands._

_"More than anything, Avatar Korra, I asked for this meeting in order to warn you."_

_"Warn me," she said, her tone cool and her expression kept plain._

_"Yes," he said, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. "Your manner of entering the city and the secrecy you maintained afterwards was a fortunate stroke. As it stands right now, only select members of the Dai Li are aware of your presence here. It is important that it stays that way. It is particularly important that the King and his council remain uninformed."_

_Korra frowned. From the tone of the man's voice, the reason for doing so seemed to be more than the possibility of her being dragged out into the public eye and her presence in the city celebrated by the Earth King._

_"Why so?"_

_"You are not aware then," Tao surmised from her question. He leaned forward as he spoke, eyes locked with hers. "Relations between the Earth King and United Republic Council have been strained since the beginning of his reign. The King does not like how much potential influence the Council has in his lands, and neither does he agree with its current position within the United Republic."_

_"Then what exactly does he want?" Korra asked, her brow raised._

_"Complete autonomy of the Earth Kingdom," Tao replied._

_Korra gave pause, her expression shifting in disbelief. "What benefit would come from such a thing?"_

_"It can be argued that the Earth Kingdom is still propping up its fellow nations in the wake of the war, particularly the Water Tribes," Tao said. "And at a time where we are beginning to experience prominent economic issues, certain suggestions can begin to become a little more appealing, both in private and publicly. Splitting away from the United Republic would also remove the influence of the Council, granting solidarity to the King's authority."_

_"I'm willing to assume this is more for the sake of personal power and pride than actual concern for the state of the nation."_

_"So some might agree," Tao said._

_"But I don't see what this necessarily has to do with me," Korra continued._

_"As I mentioned before, your official term as Avatar has been spent entirely in Republic City," the man explained. "The King has gone on record as affiliating you with the Council. In his eyes, your words and actions will directly represent it and its intentions."_

_"I see," she said after a moment._

_"If you are to remain here in the city, Avatar Korra, then you must keep your identity firmly a secret. Anything you do under your title will be construed as action taken by the Council within the Earth Kingdom without the sanction or authority of the King. I don't think I need to explain the potential repercussions of that to you." _

_She shook her head. "No. I understand."_

_"No matter how small and insignificant you may think your own actions, I can assure you that there will be found a way to spin it in a negative light," Tao told her. "Even your mere presence here without the King's official knowledge will not be looked upon lightly."_

_"I have no intentions of doing anything except living here quietly," Korra said._

_"Indefinitely?" the man asked her then._

_She gave pause, her gaze momentarily dropping away. "No. Only for a short time," she answered eventually._

_"Well, then I hope your stay will be an uneventful one, Avatar Korra," Tao said. "I should not like to have to clean up after you."_

_She looked up at him. "You won't have to."_

* * *

Chief Shen looked up from the set of papers spread out before him, his pen hanging poised in the air. He turned his eyes to the door, seeing a blurred figure through the glass on the other side of it.

"Come in," he bid his visitor, an early one at that.

They complied and quietly pushed open the door of his office. When Shen was granted a proper look at her, he found himself not to be surprised. In fact, somewhere at the back of his mind since the moment the news had fallen upon his ears, he had been expecting it.

She shut the door at her back, left arm curved around her cap at her side. Through force of habit, he appraised her uniform. It was clear that she had rushed to pull it on. As though feeling his critical eye, she surreptitiously tugged at the hem of her jacket. But Shen would not have reprimanded her for its state, at least not right now. She was not coming to him in the capacity of a simple officer, and Shen was a man who had been brought up to pay proper respect to those whose station was above his. It had always sat uneasily with him to call the Avatar anything but.

"May I sit, sir?" Korra asked, standing straight with her heels together and arm by her side.

The man gestured, directing her towards the seat on the opposite side of the desk. "Yes, of course," he said. "And it is not necessary for you to call me that while it is only the two of us here."

"We're both still in uniform, sir," Korra said as she approached the desk and quietly drew out the chair.

"It should be I who is referring to you with an honorific," Shen replied as he watched her sit down, his brow creased as he interlaced his fingers.

Korra set her cap in her lap, briefly sparing a moment to straighten it so that its peak faced away from her. "You know I'd rather you didn't," she said.

"And I am asking the same," the man returned.

After giving pause, Korra relented with a soft sigh.

"I don't need to ask what brings you here," he said then, when her eyes dipped and lingered upon her hands, curved around her cap with fingers entwined.

"No," Korra said eventually. "I heard, practically the moment I walked through the doors this morning. I don't…I can't believe it."

"Not one of us would wish it to be true."

Korra shook her head. "I tried to find Officer Gan. He isn't here…?"

"No," Shen answered. "He has been granted leave."

"I can't imagine he would have liked that," Korra said quietly.

"It would be unwise to have him on active duty right now, as it would be for anyone in his situation."

"Then, his wife," Korra began uncertainly, and at her words, Shen shook his head.

"The deputy chief refuses to be anything but the exception to the rule," he said simply.

Korra inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she returned her gaze to the man's in front of her, she could see that he was expectant and at the same time cautious.

"Chief," she began, "I don't think I can sit by and ignore this."

The man spread his hands. "You are who you are," he said, "but with all due respect, you must understand the delicacy of this situation and that you aren't trained in how you should approach it. Not to mention the questions that will be asked if I officially include you in the investigation. That is unless you no longer wish to disguise yourself, and even then there will still be questions."

Korra nodded slowly; there would be questions indeed, and quite possibly consequences to go along with them.

"You have been working with us for two years now," Shen continued as she looked up. "I will not deny that our service has its shortcomings. We are limited, in our strength and our ability to offer aid, but we do what we can where we can, and we do so to the best of our ability. So when it comes to meeting the needs of one of our own, I hope you can appreciate that we will do _all_ we can to help them."

"Yes, I know," Korra said, leaning forwards and resting her hands on his desk. Her eyes were pointed low, her voice quiet when she spoke. "I just don't want to think what could happen. I don't want to think what that little girl might be going through."

"Don't," Shen told her firmly. "Our minds go to dark places and make the worst of assumptions. We hope for the best. We pray and we believe, and at no point do we give up."

Korra looked up at his words. She almost asked him to whom they should pray; in whom they should all place their hope and belief. She wondered then what might occur if she left this room not as Serra, a simple patrol officer from the Northern Water Tribe, but as herself, as the Avatar. Word would spread faster than wild flames, she was sure. It would leave the building long before she did. The day would not yet be half done before the streets would buzz with the whisper of rumours: the Avatar herself, here in Ba Sing Se.

How long would it take those whispers to reach the ears of those she did not want them to? How long before those rumours were carried to the courts of the King? And how long before they fell upon the ears of the very criminals she would reveal herself in order to find?

Gan's daughter was a poignant image before her mind's eye. She could hear the child's excited voice as clearly as if she were sitting beside her. She remembered the way Akiko smiled at her father and even the delight with which she ran towards her mother. A voice within her cried out loud and strong for action, but when she questioned it, it could tell her only that she must do _something_. But 'something' was not good enough, not here. Walking out of that door as Avatar Korra could very well do more harm than good, and though the chain of events that might take place as a result were but possibilities, in this she was afraid to become the catalyst.

"If there's any other way I might help," she said slowly, swallowing afterwards.

"Keep your ears and eyes open," Chief Shen told her, "and report in anything that you find suspicious, even if it seems ridiculous to you."

Korra nodded, but remained silent.

Shen regarded her. "I know how difficult it is, to appear to be doing nothing."

"No, it's not that," she said, lifting her eyes and sighing softly. "I have to accept that there are better hands than mine to deal with this. I was just remembering something." She gave a small, quiet laugh. "I once admitted to a child that my being the Avatar doesn't mean I can do everything."

Korra stood to her feet then, retrieving her cap from her lap and tucking it once more under her arm. She stood with her heels together after pushing the chair back into the position she had found it in.

"I appreciate your hearing me out, sir."

Shen frowned when she spoke. "I'm glad that you came to me first, rather than take these matters into your own hands. I assume that I'm keeping you from your own duties," he added, collecting his pen into his hand.

Korra inclined her head as the man looked down to the papers in front of him, turning smoothly towards the door afterwards.

* * *

Gan sat in moderate darkness, the curtains of the living room windows roughly pulled together. The silence that had encompassed him for hours was now ruined, the culprit an insistent, persistent knocking upon the front door. It had begun more than a minute ago. Gan had not moved since. With narrowed eyes he glared at the far wall, his chest rising and falling at a steady, even pace as he looked ahead of him, seeing and yet not.

He did not care for his prospective visitor, though he had been ordered to receive them. Chief Shen had granted him leave, and then when he had predictably refused it made it mandatory. He had been ordered to remain indoors. The Chief had informed him that an officer would come around during the following day to ensure that he was alright. Gan had already received that particular check-up, three hours earlier. He had no desire to accommodate another. He did not want to see the face of another officer, drawn in a sense of helplessness and unable to tell him where his daughter was. He did not want to hear softened, empathetic voices tell him they were sorry and that all that could be done to find her was being done. He only wanted Akiko, in his arms and crushed against his chest.

"Gan?" called out a woman's voice, sounding muffled and distant. He sat up a little when he heard it, his head turning.

"Gan," she called out again, punctuating her words with a series of knocks. "Please come to the door."

He eventually found himself moving, rising from the place from which he had remained unmoved for hours, all against his better judgement. He walked like a man drunk, trailing a hand against the wall of the hallway to steady himself as he left the living room. The woman on the other side of the door fell silent as though sensing his approach. There were no thoughts in his mind as he reached to pull it open, no surprise, relief or perhaps confusion. He was blank, his eyes hollow and dark with lack of sleep.

When he opened the front door, Serra stood there in front of him. She fidgeted as she met his unblinking gaze, rubbing her wrist with her right hand. He stepped aside as she opened her mouth to speak, not knowing or caring why he had done so. She closed her mouth and hesitated, at first looking past him before lifting her eyes to meet his again. Maybe she saw something there. Gan didn't know what it could be. He felt empty and cold. Whatever it might have been, she stepped forward and crossed the threshold into his home. He quietly pushed the door shut behind her.

Gan said nothing as he turned to face her, Serra standing by the stairs opposite him. Her gaze was soft and empathetic. She spoke only to murmur his name as she lifted a hand to his arm. There was a hard lump in his throat as Serra slowly, almost carefully, stepped closer to him. He felt himself drawn forwards into her embrace. Gan bowed his head towards her shoulder as he brought his own arms around her. He could feel her hair against his cheek, soft and thick as he closed his eyes. She whispered something – he wasn't quite sure what she said, but he felt droplets of moisture squeezed from between his eyelids. When he next drew breath, his voice was ragged. Serra held him tighter against her.

"It's okay," she told him. "It's going to be okay."

She led him into his own kitchen, which somewhere deep down amused him seeing as she had never before stepped foot into his home further than the front door. He was sat down at the kitchen table, staring blankly at its surface and listening to the rummaging around within the dish rack and then the pouring of water. He looked up only when a cool glass of water was pushed into his hands. Serra pulled the second chair around the table and sat in front of him.

"Gan," she said when he met her eyes, "everyone is doing what they can. We're going to find Akiko."

He said nothing, dropping his gaze to his hands and curving them around the base of the glass.

"Don't give up hope, Gan. You can't. She's out there somewhere, and we'll _find her._"

He swallowed, his grip tightening upon the glass, but he remained silent.

"Gan," Serra said, reaching forwards across the table to lay her hand upon his forearm, "talk to me. Please."

He tried, but it was difficult to get words beyond his throat. He managed it in the end, when Serra had begun to gently rub his arm, offering him comfort and strength.

"Hana didn't come home last night," he said, wondering why those were the words he chose to say. "She didn't call to tell me where she was, but I know she stayed at the station. I know that she worked all through the night, checking and double checking every last detail, like she always does. She was doing everything she possibly could to find our daughter."

"But me?" Gan continued, turning to face Serra, whose eyes were sad and dim. "I didn't do a thing. I sat here all night. My little girl could be halfway across the city by now, and I sat here, doing nothing."

"Gan…"

"I've been sitting here all day, too," he said, speaking over Serra as though her lips had not moved to utter a word. "I sat here and stared at the walls, waiting for something, anything. In the past twenty four hours, I've done nothing to help my daughter, Serra. Not one, single thing. What kind of a man am I?" he asked her. "What kind of _father_ am I?"

"You're a _good _man and a _good_ father," she told him. "But this is out of your hands, Gan. It's too big for you to handle alone. But we're here for you, all of us, and you can be damn sure we'll do our best to find Akiko and bring her back to you."

"You're wrong," he said then, shaking his head and meeting her confused gaze. "This isn't out of my hands."

He pushed his chair back, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as he pulled his arm out from beneath Serra's hand. She looked up at him as he stood to her feet, concern shaping her dark features.

"Gan –"

"I won't sit around any longer doing nothing to get back my little girl, Serra," he growled. "All I can see when I close my eyes is her face. All I can hear is her voice, crying out for me. And you're telling me I should just sit here and hope for the best?"

"That's not what I meant," she said quickly, lifting her hands.

"Everyone, my wife, the officers out on the streets looking for my daughter, the people Chief Shen has trying to find out who the bastards are that took her – everyone but me is out there _doing something_," Gan said, the hand at his side curling into a fist as he lifted the other and pointed into Serra's face. "And you can be sure that I'm damn well going to do something too."

She was on her feet a few moments later as he turned and swept out the room. Gan ignored her questions as he moved to find his coat and keys, stomping up the stairs in order to retrieve the latter. When he reached his and Hana's bedroom, he roughly pulled open the pair of drawers that stood at his side of the bed, in his dark and single-minded mood forgetting into which one of them he deposited his keys the previous day. Once he had them in hand, the upper drawer left lopsided and overhanging the lower, Gan stalked out of the room. Serra was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. "Gan," she said, but he pushed past her.

He did not make it another step before he felt a strong grip close around his left upper arm. Serra whirled him around as she pushed him backwards, putting his back against the wall of the hallway. She boldly met his dark glare, her own expression hard.

"Gan, listen to me," she told him, holding his arm tightly. "I understand –"

"You don't understand anything," he spoke over her.

"Just listen," she insisted.

"You're wasting my time, Serra. You're wasting Akiko's time!"

"_Gan –"_

"Let go of me," he told her. "Get out of my way. I don't want to fight you."

"Then don't."

"Let. Go. Of me," he growled.

"Not until you listen –"

Gan pulled out of her grip before she had finished speaking, pushing away from the wall and overcoming her strength. She tried to obstruct him again, but Gan lifted his right arm to her chest as though to sweep her out of his path. Serra caught his wrist while his arm was still bent at the joint, forcing it down and then back up in a circular motion. She dumped her weight onto her leading foot as she stepped into him, overbalancing him and a moment later slamming his outstretched arm against the wall. Before Gan could properly react, she lifted her right hand and slammed her palm to the wall just above his arm. Gan heard a sudden dry screech. He blinked afterwards.

His arm was fastened to the wall…by the wall itself. Locked in place.

Gan slowly turned his eyes from his captured limb to Serra, who had stepped back away from him to meet his gaze. It did not even occur to him, though it would have been easily done, to free himself.

"Serra," he said carefully, "you're a waterbender."

"I am," she replied, "and much more."

Gan turned again to his arm, trapped against the wall by a means not of his own making. And he told her so, though she did not need to hear it. But he did, because disbelief still had him clutched in its numbing grip.

"I didn't do this."

"No," she said. "I did."

He turned back to her. "Serra –"

"I'm not Serra," she spoke over him, giving a small, apologetic shake of her head. "I'm sorry. My name is Korra."

"Korra," he repeated, his voice softened by shock and his thoughts having ground to a halt.

"Listen to me, Gan," the woman he knew and yet did not asked of him. "I understand," she said, "more than you know, I understand. I know what it's like to want – to need to take matters into your own hands because everyone around you is too slow, or isn't doing enough, or simply because _you_ have to do it because no one else can, or no one else will. I understand that, do you hear me?"

"But there will be consequences to your actions, Gan," Korra continued with a heavy sigh, and it was as though he saw a great weight settle upon her shoulders as she released it. "We don't really understand the price we must for what we have done until it's all over. We become so single-minded and driven that we forget to consider how our actions might affect those around us. Believe me, Gan, when I say that I have paid a heavy price, all because I felt the need to do _something_; to do what was _needed_."

She looked up at him then, with bright blue eyes that had grown older, wiser and pained.

"Gan, you don't know what you could set in motion by walking out of that door. You don't know the price you might have to pay."

"I just want my daughter back," he said softly, so very softly.

"I know," she answered him. "I just don't want you to walk the same path I did. I've been afraid every day since then that I've lost the person I cherish the most because of it."

Gan's arm dropped away from the wall when Korra lifted hers and made a small gesture. He heard rather than saw the swift and crudely fashioned restraint sinking out of sight, though the wall bore the scar where it had been torn. He brought his hand up to the other, almost completely unaware of the motion as he slowly rubbed his wrist. He looked at the woman in front of him, who he knew and yet did not, and the fire that had seemed to consume him mere minutes ago dwindled in her presence. In its place was a cold sense of desperation, spreading from the pit of his stomach to his limbs and rendering him helpless.

"What would you have me do?" he said quietly, almost hopelessly. "Should I just sit here and wait?"

"No," the woman who called herself Korra told him. "I ask you to trust those who are working in your stead to find Akiko. I ask you to trust me, Gan. I promise you, on my word, that we will find your daughter."

Gan swallowed, unable to take his eyes away from the intensity of Korra's gaze. They wanted to rise and turn across to the front door, to remind him that his daughter was still out there, crying for him, and that he had to do something. But Korra's eyes held him. They held him until he could see her spoken promise written there upon her gaze. And despite the voice that gave a defiant shout within him, Gan eventually nodded in answer to it.

Afterwards, when he realised what he had done, Gan brought his hands to his face and hung his head low. His back slid down the face of the wall until he felt the floor beneath him. He felt her crouch down beside him, with a hand that moved slowly between his shoulders offering him comfort.

"We will find her," the Avatar promised him.

And no matter how willingly he clung to them, her voice swept away all his doubts.


	22. Chapter 22

It was approaching the latter end of the afternoon, the heat of the sun hard upon the busy street. The vendor, while standing beneath the shade provided by his stall, had a glistening sheen of sweat upon his brow. The air was hot, dry, and despite his being more than acclimatised to the heat, there were occasions were it sapped his strength with unusual efficiency. Today was such a day, where even to lift his forearm to clear his brow of sweat proved tiring. Nevertheless, he brought as bright a smile as possible to his face whenever a potential customer leaned in to take a look at his goods, though he knew some of them – or perhaps most today – merely sought momentary respite from the heat.

People flowed smoothly around him, the walkpath thick with pedestrians coming to and fro their daily business. The vendor kept an eye out for the quick-fingered among them. He had a little too much experience of items being pinched from their places. It was better to catch them out before they could act than afterwards. He was loath to the idea of chasing the scoundrels down and leaving his stall unattended. A shout caught his attention then, coming from somewhere down the street. Curiosity immediately taking him, he turned his head, seeing a ripple of disturbance moving through the flow of the bustling street. Like numerous others, he stood on the balls of his feet for a better look.

A man pushed roughly through the crowd, knocking aside men and women in a bid to escape those hot on his heels. The shout of the police officer went ignored and a woman spun and fell awkwardly as he barrelled into her. The collision knocked his own balance askew for a moment, but he quickly recovered his stumbling run. He flicked a hurried glance over his shoulder to see the officers chasing him gaining ground. One sprang forward as the man skirted around another pedestrian, getting a loose grip on his flailing jacket. The man pulled away, viciously shaking the jacket's tails free. The officer grasped through the air after him. The man then turned around only to find a woman laden with several bags standing right in his path.

He ran straight into her, unable to dodge around her in time. The impact robbed him of his balance and his momentum carried him straight into a street vendor's stall. He crashed through the wooden structure, spilling its contents to the ground all around him. A fierce sting erupted at his elbow as its meeting the walkpath ripped skin away. He had no time to lay there dazed however. The man staggered back up to his feet, shoving aside the indignant vendor who was staring at his produce and ruined stall in shock.

A police officer was upon him in the next moment. He saw him coming, wincing as he ducked away from the officer's attempted tackle. However, he moved right into the path of another, who tackled him from the side. Desperate to escape, the man fought the moment he was taken off his feet.

A wildly thrown fist grazed the cheek of the woman who drove him to the ground. She pulled her head to the side just out of his reach, her hand shooting forwards to grab his wrist. He gasped as she wrenched it down against the direction of the joint. The man kicked out, trying to dislodge her from on top of him, but another officer's weight dropped heavily onto his legs.

He was forced over onto his stomach, writhing and spitting curses. The voices of the police officers encompassed him, each of them shouting in his ear. The woman's grip was like a vice upon his wrist, the way she held him against his resistance making his shoulder burn. He growled another curse as a knee pressed into his back. The woman demanded his other arm, which he had trapped beneath his chest. A third officer then appeared near his head, grip closing around his bicep and pulling.

Cold steel snapped around the wrist held at his back as his left arm was eventually pulled free. He struggled hard now, twisting his body and attempting to lift his hips. The knee at his back ground into him, the female officer dumping her weight onto him as his arm was pulled around to meet the other. The handcuffs snapped around his other wrist as the sound of sirens and a police car met his ear. Fully bound and pinned to the walkpath, the man's resistance began to fade. He did not neglect the opportunity to curse with renewed venom, however, as he was pulled up to his feet.

"You're under arrest," the female officer spoke as he was pushed towards the waiting patrol car, another officer stepping forward to pull the rear door open. Her voice was harder than the concrete slabs he had been pressed against.

"Fuck off," he spat in reply. That only earned him the tightening of the cuffs around his wrists. His hiss and complaint afterwards were ignored.

A hand settled atop his head and forced him to duck and enter the car. The door slammed shut no sooner had he got in. He turned, glaring up at the woman through the window as she stepped back away from the car, his lips curling hatefully. She looked right back at him, eyes dark and rippling with intensity. She didn't blink and her mouth was a tight, thin line. The man was not one to be intimidated, but there was something in that woman's piercing gaze that unsettled him for the briefest moment. But by the time he caught his eyes dropping from hers, the car had already begun to move away.

* * *

"He still isn't talking. At least, he's not saying anything we need to hear right now."

Captain Fa was standing in front of the Chief's desk, adopting his typical posture of keeping his hands overlapped behind his back. His expression was one of a continual frown, the crease of his brow drawing his dark eyebrows together. Chief Shen sighed heavily as he curved a hand over his fist, elbows resting on the surface of the desk. "I can't say I was not expecting this," he said slowly.

"The trafficking rings are, if anything, efficient," Fa said. "They don't keep people in one place for long. It's possible for them to be smuggled out of the city within days. If this man knows something that can help us we need to find out, Chief."

Shen lifted his head and turned his eyes towards the door as two sharp, swift knocks rang out upon the glass. Immediately afterwards, it was pushed open. He did not need to wonder who it might be on the other side, for only one person was afforded the privilege to enter his office in such a manner.

The deputy chief stood in the doorway, her uniform as ever without a blemish and her short, dark hair tidily drawn back into a tail. She favoured a plain expression, though Shen could see the tiredness in her eyes and the tight set of her jaw. Captain Fa stood a little straighter as she entered the room. Shen saw her gaze pointed directly across it, past him and the captain to the woman also standing on the opposite side of his desk. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed the door shut behind her.

"What is she doing here?"

Shen looked between his deputy and the young woman she was looking at. His eyes lingered on the latter, meeting hers. "She's here by my request," he said.

"I don't see how she can be of any further use," Hana said tonelessly, moving to stand at the side of Shen's desk. "Captain –"

"I can help," the woman spoke.

"You have done your part, officer," Hana said coolly. "I highly doubt you have anything more to offer to the proceedings of this investigation."

"The suspect is refusing to talk. I can find out for certain how he was involved in your daughter's kidnapping and whether or not he knows where she is."

"Oh really," Hana said, folding her arms. "So you are better trained in means of formal questioning than the officers we already have interrogating him? Or perhaps you have a connection to this investigation that you have been withholding."

"Hana," Shen spoke then, his tone firm and cautionary. She said nothing more, though her gaze did not fall away from the woman.

Shen turned to her once more, watching as she breathed as though to steady herself. He knew what was coming, because once she heard of the uncooperative nature of the man she helped arrest, she came to him. She told him she had the means to extract the truth from the man, but that she would only do so with his permission. He could see in her eyes as she spoke the restraint which she imposed upon herself. He allowed for one more attempt at questioning their suspect formally before calling his captain and deputy chief to meet with him.

"It is imperative that what I'm about to say does not leave this room. It must be known only to those of us here and no further than that."

Captain Fa, who similarly to the deputy chief had questioned the presence of this woman, slowly nodded. The deputy chief herself made no movement whatsoever, holding the eyes of the woman when she met them. No such manner of agreement was required of Shen. The young woman waited for another moment before she spoke.

"I've called myself Serra during the time I've spent working with this police force. My real name, however, is Korra. I'm the Avatar."

"That's a bold claim to make," Fa said, breaking the tense, stretching silence that followed her words. The man had half turned to her, an eyebrow raised in cautious surprise.

"It's not a claim," Korra said simply. Lifting her left hand, she brought into being a small flame that hovered above her palm. This time both of Fa's eyebrows rose. He turned fully to face her, his hands falling away from behind his back. Meanwhile, the eyes of the deputy chief merely narrowed further.

"That's just one element," she said.

Korra looked to her. "I can bend all four. An office isn't exactly the best place for me to demonstrate them to you."

"Then why should we believe you if you can't prove it, here and now? Perhaps your parenthood is a little more exotic than one would assume –"

"She is who she says she is," Shen cut in, earning himself Hana's gaze. "I have seen it for myself."

"You knew?"

Shen nodded. "The Avatar joined our ranks under her guise with my permission."

"That was more than two years ago," Hana said after a moment. She lifted her eyes back to Korra. "Why have you been hiding for such a length of time?"

Korra frowned at her choice of words. "I wanted the experience of being a police officer without the attention or special treatment that would come along with my title."

"There would have been no special treatment for you," Hana said coolly, "title or no –"

"Look, I'm not here to argue with you," Korra spoke over her, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "I can help, and that's all I want to do."

"Let her speak," Shen told his deputy, fixing her with a look she would not argue with when she met his gaze.

"Avatar Korra," Fa said, breaking the silence that once more settled between them. He inclined his head respectfully as he spoke her title. "You will have to explain how you intend to make our suspect talk, as you say you can."

Korra shook her head. "I can't make him talk, but I have a method through which I can access the information he is keeping to himself."

"And this method?" Fa prompted, and both the Chief and his deputy were looking at her intently.

Korra paused then. The specifics of her ability to access an individual's memories were something that she had always kept to herself. There were some things that she had shared with Tenzin, who being largely unknowledgeable to the ways of energybending was naturally curious and fascinated by it. She knew the man and the philosophies he kept more than well enough to know that the secrets she could spill would not sit well with him. She would have to explain some aspects of it now though, even if she did so in a way that was purposefully vague. She could not expect to be trusted upon blind faith here.

"As the Avatar I can detach my consciousness and meld it with another's, given certain conditions."

"Such as?" Shen asked.

"I need to be in physical contact with the individual," Korra replied.

"And then?"

"Once I meld my consciousness with theirs, I can access their thoughts and memories, the latter being a more reliable source of information."

"Can they resist you while you're in this state? Perhaps feed you false information through altered memories?"

"No," Korra said without hesitation. "A memory is a truth that can't be changed. It remains the same even when your intention is to lie."

That and the fact that she was the only being in the world in possession of this ability. And only now was she sharing the knowledge of it.

"Does this process cause harm in any way to the individual?" Fa asked her then.

"Physical harm, no. But the sensation it induces isn't pleasant, to put it simply."

Fa turned to his superiors. "I see no better option at the moment. We need to know what that man knows, and now we don't even need him to talk."

Shen remained silent with his chin resting upon his hands. A deliberative expression shaped his features as he looked ahead to the far wall. "I'm inclined to agree," he said eventually. His deputy, however, appeared not to.

"We should trust you, when not one of us has seen what it is you claim to be able to do."

"I would like you to, yes," Korra said, frowning. "As I said, I want to do what I can to help. I want to help find your daughter."

"If you cared about my daughter's wellbeing, Avatar, then you would have brought your presence to our attention immediately and aided the investigation," Hana said with narrowed eyes and a tight voice.

"Hana, that's enough."

"I had my reasons why I couldn't," Korra spoke over Chief Shen, impatience slipping into her tone, "but I am here _now. _I have every reason to _not _be here, Hana."

"And I wonder what those reasons are," she replied. "I wonder why it really is that the Avatar has hidden amongst our ranks for over two years. You ask me to place my daughter's fate in your hands when I have no reason to trust or believe a word you say."

"Ladies, please," Shen said, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet as Korra moved across the room, her expression growing hard. Hana did not back down as she stood in front of her. She matched the intensity of Korra's gaze, the two women of equal height.

"You've been putting stumbling blocks in my way for the last two years," Korra said, refusing to blink as she met the woman's eyes. "Every step I take, you're there to push me back down. Why? I've done nothing to you. I haven't wronged you in the slightest."

"You don't belong here," Hana said coldly.

"Where?" Korra replied, her expression darkening with the shadow of a snarl. "Where don't I belong? In this room? In this building? Or perhaps you'd prefer never to see the likes of me and those of my homeland in this city again."

Silence struck once more, this time fraught with tension as Korra's words and their implications hung in the air. They were sharp, like the edges of broken glass, and no one dared to breathe.

"I am not your enemy," Korra said fiercely. "I'm trying to help you. _Let me help you_."

Hana glared at the woman before her, but it was all she could do. Her teeth were clenched behind her lips, her jaw painfully tight. In the end, she turned away from all of them, walking over to the door without a backward glance. Korra watched as Hana pulled the office door shut behind her. She looked down afterwards and gave a small shake of her head.

"I apologise, Avatar Korra, on her behalf and for myself," Chief Shen said quietly. She slowly looked up at him. "Hana's history…well, if you knew it, you might better understand."

"So you know and yet you tolerate her behaviour. You ignore it, even."

Shen shook his head. "Hana is one of the most capable individuals I have ever known. There is a reason she is my deputy chief. She understands what that role entails and what I expect from her."

"Forgive me, but your expectations and my personal experience don't appear to add up," Korra replied.

"If I may," Captain Fa spoke between them. Korra turned, having momentarily forgotten the man's presence. The tight line of his mouth moulded itself to the frown he was wearing. He glanced momentarily to the door before he spoke again, taking a moment to clear his throat.

"Time is of the essence. If we are going to go along with Avatar Korra's plan, I would recommend we do so sooner rather than later."

Korra turned back to Chief Shen, who nodded upon meeting her eyes. The man stepped out from behind his desk, walking over to the door and pulling it open.

Fa stepped through first, followed by Korra. As they walked through the corridors of the station towards the interrogation room and their suspect, she began to prepare herself for what was to come. She had only ever accessed the memories of those with the ability to bend, either when in the process of giving it back to them or, in her most recent case, taking it away. Bending was the medium through which she attuned her energy to the individual's in order to interact with them. The suspect, however, was a non-bender.

Korra had performed energybending on non-benders before. It was a common occurrence for them to approach her when she had been in the process of restoring bending to the populace of Republic City. Some were curious, others hopeful. Some were desperate. But no amount of wishful thinking would help. It was beyond her to gift bending to one who had not been born with the ability. She did not know why she couldn't, but it was a fact that she had not pressed to try and disprove.

At a glance it was practically impossible to distinguish a bender from a non-bender, and so many a time had she halted shortly after beginning the restoration process. The energy of a bender felt subtly different to that of a non-bender and she quickly learnt how to identify between the two. She had never attempted to reach the memories of the latter as she had quietly experimented with benders.

These thoughts were at the forefront of her mind as the three of them eventually turned into a smaller corridor. Walking past the door of the interrogation room itself, Captain Fa opened the door to the room next to it, allowing Korra to step through before him. This small room was relatively empty, its defining feature being a rectangular niche cut into the wall. Through the glass that occupied the accordingly shaped gap, one could look through into the room on the other side of the wall. Its occupant, however, could not do the same.

The man fit the description Gan's sister-in-law had provided the day Akiko had been snatched. After a confirmed sighting of him, Korra listened to the crackling voice of the operator coming from her radio informing all available units of the man's last known location. She and her replacement partner in Gan's absence happened to be patrolling in the local area, and she tore off like a lightning bolt in order to aid the pursuit.

He was sitting at one side of a plain grey table, his hands now bound in front of him. His expression was sullen, thick eyebrows drawn together in a permanent scowl. As Korra watched him, he shifted irritably upon the hard backed chair, which was designed for everything besides comfort. Two other men were in the room with him, both dressed in uniform. One was sitting opposite the handcuffed man, the other standing to the side and slightly behind him.

Chief Shen reached forwards and rapped sharply on the glass with his knuckles. Both the officers in the room looked up and towards it, as did the man between them. "Wait here," Shen said, leaving the room and pulling the door shut behind him. Korra watched through the glass as the officers did the same. That left the man alone. She focused her eyes upon him.

He knew where Akiko was; he knew what could be happening to her right now as they all stood around wasting every precious minute that passed by. Korra worked hard to keep her anger from coming to the fore. This man was cruel enough to steal a child away from her parents for an end she did not wish to imagine, leaving her mother and father to suffer such pain and distress in the process. And now he sat there, refusing to tell them what they needed to know.

Korra was reminded of how strongly she resented the men and women of the White Lotus Council, who had made a prison of the compound in which she was meant to be trained. They were unyielding in the face of her pleading to spend a little time with her parents. She had at times felt so alone, so confused and afraid, but for the White Lotus the role of her mother and father seemed to end with her birth. They were distractions she had once been told. The business of the Avatar was her only priority.

It was different, she knew, so much different to the circumstance that Akiko and her parents were facing, but Korra could not forgive such a one who sought to tear a child away from their mother and father. There was too much pain there, pain she would wish upon no one.

Chief Shen came back for them. As they stepped back into the corridor, Korra recognised the absence of the previous two officers. The man had a plain but determined expression to show her when she met his gaze. Fa pushed open the door to the interrogation room proper and Korra followed him inside.

The man at the table looked up as they entered. He gave a sardonic, exasperated sigh and pointed his eyes to the ceiling.

"You don't know when to give up, do you?" he said as they approached, looking between them with no attempt made to disguise his snarl.

"One more chance," Fa said, walking around the table to the man's side, forcing him to crane his neck to look up at him. "Talk. Tell us where the girl is and what you've done with her."

Korra did not approach the table yet, standing halfway between it and the door. The man looked to her, his eyes narrowing as he seemed to recognise her. She met his dark gaze as she had met Hana's, feeling her jaw tighten. The man looked away and adjusted himself in his chair, the clink of his cuffed hands the only sound within the room. Korra waited for only a few moments more. Then she walked towards the table.

"Hold him down."

Fa moved before the man could turn to look up at her again. His hand curved around the back of his neck and the other bunched into the back of his jacket. The table rattled, the man releasing a muffled shout as the captain dragged him up out of his chair and threw him down onto it.

"The fuck are you doing?" the man spat, his voice tight as Fa dropped his weight onto his back to keep him still. "Let go of me!"

Standing at the opposite side of the table, Korra took hold of the man's thick hair and lifted his head so that she could see his eyes. He winced in her grip, but Korra did not relent. Without another word or a moment of hesitation, she brought her right hand over the man's face, fingertips pressing hard into his skin. She closed her natural eyes, inhaling slowly. And then she opened her third.

The man cried out. She heard that first one clearly, but ignored it and forged on ahead. But something was different – not with the form or nature of the man's energy, but with herself. She could see as she had never done so before, with such clarity and detail that for a moment she paused in surprise. She saw now how the large major pathways of his body branched off into smaller paths, which then split apart themselves. She could see the flow of his inner energy so distinctly.

Powerful curiosity overtook her then, just for an instant. She set aside the task at hand and turned her sight to the man's core, the place where the bright spark of a bender's energy would lie. She wanted to study it, to determine what it really was that made the difference. But then Akiko arose before her eyes, and Gan, and then Hana; a family split apart that she had the means to help bring back together. That was her sole priority, Korra reminded herself. And so she pushed aside that strange sense of curiosity and focused herself.

The lay of the man's inner network was familiar if not practically identical to that of a bender's. She found that she actually did not require the medium of bending to tap into a person's energy more directly. Her newly attuned sense of sight allowed her to examine that network and see the intricate, delicate paths she could traverse instead. She marvelled at the discovery as a pleasant sense of surprise bubbled up within her. She recognised the sensation, like a match being struck alight. She had experienced it each time she studied the complicated innards of a broken watch and suddenly understood how one component worked intrinsically with another.

So it was with an ease she had never known that Korra was able to search within his mind and bring forward a slew of memories. Not a detail slipped her by as she sifted through them, moving from one to the next as though rapidly turning the pages of book. The disjointed images that drifted before her sight, she sorted into coherent, chronological order. It was simple, like putting back together a nebula of tiny mechanical pieces.

The things that she glimpsed and momentarily experienced should have brought her anger tearing up through its restraints, but instead she was finding herself to be distracted by a thousand points of light that her third eye had never glimpsed before. Rather than anger then, Korra experienced again that peculiar sense of curiosity. It grew and grew as the myriad of lights all around her pulsed every fraction of a second. But she had to remain focused.

Soon, Korra came upon what she needed to see. She watched as the man purposefully collided with the woman with a child at her knee. He distracted her with profuse apologies, over her shoulder watching his partner move quickly away with the child in his arms. It was easy and routine. The marketplaces were always a prime location to snatch away unattended children. Again, as Korra relived the man's train of thought, she knew that it should have incensed her. But it was as though she could not find her anger, even when she bore witness to dark and twisted intentions. Those lights demanded her attention and it was becoming more difficult to ignore them.

She divulged from the man's memory the place to where he and his partner first brought Akiko. Afterwards, she made herself privy to a conversation he had concerning where she would be moved to. Korra glimpsed other children as she searched his memories once more, little faces drawn in confusion and streaked with tears. She saw the place where they were kept, hidden in the upper rooms of a nondescript building.

Having discovered what she needed to find out, Korra began to draw away. She tried to at least, for the sight of her third eye did not diminish but rather turned now to the twinkling dots of light, paying them her full attention. In a moment of furious indecision, she decided then that it wouldn't hurt just to have a little look.

Korra plunged forward with unbridled eagerness, her sight closing in upon one of the pinprick dots of light. It was a brilliant, blinding white, flashing more quickly than she could keep track of. She looked a little closer and thought she could see a distinguishable shape behind the light almost. Or within it. Or perhaps encompassing it; it was difficult to tell. Curiosity urged she find out.

Korra settled into a familiar state of focus, one she had naturally cultivated in order to study the many fragments that composed a watch. She gradually began to discern a different kind of network, its pathways so fine as to be almost invisible. She could see no beginning or end however, seeing only rapid pulses of light akin to bolts of lightning flashing across an angry sky. She tried to catch it, darting forward with an ethereal touch. She missed, but light suddenly flared bright elsewhere and she turned in an instant.

She sought after it again and again, pressing deeper into this unfathomable, peculiar network as she chased the light. Bright flares surged into being each time that she missed, pulsing angrily and briefly blinding her. Korra chased after it still, darting along the pathways. She was beginning to feel an odd sense of resistance however, as though trudging through thick, ankle-high mud. She pushed through it, eager to catch the light. She knew not why she must or what would occur once she did. Equally, Korra did not understand what was meant by the pulsing flares that were erupting all around her. But at the least, she was being given more opportunities to catch it. It was like a game, and Korra bounded to and fro with untameable enthusiasm.

"…_Korra_…"

Light was everywhere now; if only she could be a little faster, reach a little further.

"_Korra…_"

Her ear turned towards what she thought to be a voice. It sounded familiar. It also sounded desperate, like it was trying to get her attention. But so was the light, and that was far more interesting –

"_Korra!"_

She jumped as the man's voice rang out in her ear. It was tinged with alarm, sharp and palpable, and Korra was immediately turning to find its source. The sight of her third eye was swiftly beginning to diminish, the playground she had frolicked within fading away. Surprise swept through her when Korra suddenly glimpsed the face of her predecessor, standing beside her with his hand clutching her arm. He wore a fearful expression, concern and uncertainty tainting the wisdom of his eyes.

"Aang?"

But he too was fading away. Slowly Korra came to, the brilliant light of her eyes returning to their original hue. Sight and sound of the real world around her returned also. Korra looked down as she heard something strange.

The man was crying, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. He trembled, in voice and body, and his eyes were rolling up into his head. Korra stared, shocked into speechlessness. She pulled her hand away from his face and let go of his hair, taking an inadvertent step backwards. The man's head flopped down to the table, his breath weak and shuddering. Captain Fa was looking up at her, a guarded sense of uncertainty written upon his features.

"You said this would cause no pain," Fa said quietly, as both of them stood and looked down at the limp form of the man.

Korra looked up to meet the captain's gaze and wondered if it would be worth it to lie. But the fact was that she did not understand what she had done, and Fa had watched everything unfold with his own eyes.

And then there was the sudden appearance of her predecessor, who had stopped her from…from doing _something_. Not even he had understood it; she could see that in his eyes. He was the only other known being who had possessed the ability to energybend. He had lived with that ability for far longer than she had and not even he knew what she had done. And now, as she watched the man tremble intermittently, looking about ready to slip off the table, Korra didn't know what to think. The persistence of his vacant gaze served to unsettle her.

"It shouldn't have," she answered the captain softly.

"He was screaming like a man being tortured," Fa told her.

Korra said nothing for a long moment. And then she swallowed the hard lump in her throat, mentally shaking herself. This man…she had seen the things he had done and the thoughts and intentions he inhabited. He…there was a consequence to all actions, a price to pay, she thought. This was his. The man's eyes then fell in unconsciousness and his trembling ceased. Korra looked away.

"I know where the deputy chief's daughter is being kept," she said, her voice firm when she spoke, "along with a number of other children."

Fa seemed to restrain a grimace as he met her gaze. He nodded slowly. They both turned when the door to the room was quietly pushed open. Chief Shen stood in the doorway, his eyes briefly turning to the table. When he turned back to Korra, his expression mirrored his captain's.

* * *

For the first time in almost three days, Gan walked through the corridors of the station. His stride was at first swift, fuelled by the news waiting upon his lips. Elation and a renewed hope filled him when he heard it for himself. He had stared at Chief Shen almost in disbelief. The man told him again just to make sure he heard and understood it. And then the Chief suggested that it would be best for him to share this news with Hana. Gan was somewhat surprised that she was not already in the know. But Chief Shen had been wearing an expression that gave him pause. He looked to Korra afterwards, who was standing beside the man's desk. Her expression was tight at the mention of his wife.

As he approached her office, Gan's stride slowed. In a similar fashion to the Chief's, the characters of her name and rank were inked onto the translucent glass of the door. He could see at best only blurred shapes beyond it, unable to discern one feature of the room from the next.

Gan hesitated when he lifted his hand, briefly glancing downward. When he drew his next breath, it felt as though he was bracing himself for something. He hated the thought of that. This was his wife, and he had the best of news to share with her. He rapped lightly on the glass with his knuckles. "Hana?" There was no reply and so Gan knocked again. After waiting for several moments and being greeted only with silence, Gan lowered his hand to the door handle.

His wife's office was a small, cluttered space. The surface of her desk was hidden beneath a collection of folders and work trays, paper piles patiently waiting to be attended to. The presence of the dark, stout bottle among her papers drew Gan's attention. The woman herself was standing on the opposite side of the desk in front of a faded grey filing cabinet, facing away from him. She did not turn or say a word when he quietly pushed her door shut.

Gan carefully made his way around the desk, coming up behind her. Hana had one arm crossing her waist, its hand clutching a small glass into which was poured a thin measure of smooth, caramel liquid. The filing cabinet was three tiers high, and sitting on top of it next to a pot of pens and pencils was a small, framed photograph. The thumb of her left hand slowly ghosted along its edge.

"Do you remember this?" she asked him, her voice soft.

Gan reached around her, taking the photograph up in his hand. It had been taken shortly after their daughter's birth. Akiko was a small, swaddled bundle in the arms of her mother. She was sitting against him, his arm about her waist. Her hair was long back then, falling to her shoulders and neatly tucked behind her ears. They were smiling, both of them. Hana had not been able to keep her eyes away from their little girl for long. The photograph had captured her glancing down, unbridled warmth in her gaze.

"I remember," he said.

"We were happy then. I thought our world was perfect. What changed, Gan?"

He looked down upon the photograph, silent for a moment. "We lost sight of each other."

"I suppose you're right," Hana said quietly.

He returned the photograph to its place and afterwards, almost tentatively, lifted his hands to her arms. Some part of him expected her to brush him away; he and his wife had shared little physical contact in recent years. Instead, Hana softened at his touch. The shift in her body was subtle and for a moment Gan thought he might have misinterpreted it.

"When have you last slept?" he asked her.

"I can't sleep. Not with Akiko missing."

"They know where she is."

Hana turned around to face him. He could see how hard she suddenly gripped the glass in her hand, her eyes fixed upon his.

"Where is she, Gan?" she said, and he heard desperation slipping through into her voice. "Where is my little girl?"

"She's in the Jinghu district."

His wife's eyes widened. "Where?"

Gan shook his head. "The Avatar says she wasn't able to get the precise location from the bastard who took Akiko. But she's confident enough to be able to point it out once she's in the local area."

"How do you know who she really is?" Hana said, and Gan noticed her stiffen at the mention of the woman.

"She told me herself, the day after Akiko went missing. I was desperate, Hana. I just wanted to see our daughter again; I would have done anything to get her back. Anything. She had to stop me from doing something stupid, something I might have regretted. She told me to trust her instead."

"We should trust Akiko's life to a woman we don't even know," his wife said tonelessly.

"The Chief trusts her. _I_ trust her," Gan said, raising his hands to her arms again. "She's been my partner for two years and I know the kind of woman she is, Hana. She'll never go back on her word. And look what she's done for us. She promised me she would find our daughter, and I've no idea how but she's managed to do just that. _Trust her,_ Hana. For me. For Akiko."

Hana looked away, her eyes narrow and conflicted. Gan brought his hand down to hers and gently took the glass of liquor from her grip, setting it down on the desk. Afterwards, he drew his wife into his arms.

He had not known such closeness with her like this in so long. Hana pressed her brow to his shoulder as he felt her grip the back of his jacket.

"I just want her back," she whispered. "I don't care how. I just want her back."

"We'll see her soon," Gan promised, and he embraced his wife tighter. "We'll hold her and cry with her. We'll be a family again, Hana. Soon."

* * *

**A/N: Forgive the delay, this chapter has been a royal pain, requiring several large alterations and straight up rewrites. But while trying to figure out just what the hell to do with this one, I managed to write ahead a little. So right now I'm looking at a lengthy word document concerning that moment some of you are apparently rather excited about. Till then.**


	23. Chapter 23

The Jinghu district lay deeper into the Lower Ring, largely characterised by long winding streets with buildings packed closely together at each side. A mismatch of recently renovated buildings and older, fragile structures stood side by side, drab hues of dark greens and grey the primary palette. Walkpaths did not extend to every street, and more often than not they had been laid down unevenly, slanting towards the road. The quality of the road itself seemed to change at a whim, from bad to comparatively worse and back again.

Korra sat beside Captain Fa in the passenger's seat of the patrol car, experiencing the dips and ruts in the road with more frequency than she would have liked. Her eyes were pointed out the window, narrowed in concentration. Before her mind's eye she summoned a series of images, swiftly matching up the details with what she was seeing around her and giving Fa directions accordingly. Their patrol car was leading several others through the district, and the captain was driving with a sense of urgency. Korra was forced to be quick on the mark, but she was able to keep up.

"Left here," she said, pointing to the sharply angled turn in the road, "second right after that."

Korra set her hand against the dashboard to steady herself as Fa took the turn quickly. In the wing mirror, she could see the other patrol cars following suit. She could feel the weight of responsibility upon her shoulders. The captain was essentially driving blind, and the group of police officers following them were unknowingly relying on her capability to aim them true. She would do it though, because she had no other choice. Akiko was relying on her too, even if she did not know it.

"How close?" Fa said.

"The next turn after this one."

"You're sure."

"I'm sure," Korra replied, her voice unwavering. "I just need to see the street itself."

They turned onto said street a few seconds later. Korra was leaning forward now, her gaze flitting from building to building.

"Which one?" Fa said quickly.

She lifted a hand as though to quiet him. "Hold on," she answered tightly.

"Which one, Avatar?" he demanded in return.

She growled low in her throat, scanning the buildings as they passed by. Korra was looking for an asymmetrically built house with a brown door. The lower left hand side window would be boarded up…

"There!" she shouted, pointing ahead through the windscreen.

Fa pulled up to a screeching halt almost directly outside the house, narrowly avoiding scraping against the side of a parked Robin. The squealing of tyres seemed to echo for several moments as the trailing patrol cars drew up alongside and behind theirs. Korra threw her door open just after the captain, who moved swiftly around the bonnet of the car to stand at the edge of the walkpath.

"Form up," Fa said as men and women in uniform emerged from their vehicles and streamed onto the walkpath, nearby pedestrians ushered away. Korra hung back a little as the other officers pressed forward. There was a small gap at the right hand side of the building, between it and its neighbour. The narrow footpath would lead around to the rear side of the house they would be forcing entry into in moments. Fa pointed his hand towards it as he spoke, keeping his voice low.

"I want officers covering the rear in case anyone inside tries to get clever. The children are being kept in a room on the upper floor. Everyone else is to be treated as a suspect. We breach on my mark. Move!"

Korra followed the lead of several other officers who moved towards the footpath. It was narrow to the point where one could not properly stretch out their arms to either side of them. The path branched out to the left and right after a few metres, widening out as it continued in either direction. They all took the left turn to come around to the back of the house in question, finding there to be a small, ill-kept garden lying behind it. Waist-high fencing cordoned off the garden, its thin bars dusted with rust.

As the first officer carefully hopped over it, Korra heard a muted thud from around the front of the building. Before the next had time to sound, she heard voices coming from inside, swearing and shouting. Her heart was thumping in her chest now as another man climbed over the fence, adrenaline feeding into her veins. There were four officers at the rear of the house including herself, two as of yet positioned in the garden and all with their eyes upon the back door. The third officer hopped the fence as they heard yet another thud, louder this time. And then there was an explosion of voices.

* * *

Akiko was sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her cheeks were wet with fresh tears and her body trembling with sobs. But she had to cry quietly. The man on the other side of the door didn't like to hear any of them crying. It made him angry. She was scared of him when he was angry. One of the other four children in the dark room, a boy, had made him angry. Akiko remembered very clearly how furiously the man shouted at him, grabbing the front of his jumper. His voice was so loud, filling the room from corner to corner. Not a sound emerged from any of them afterwards.

There was no light in the room and no windows. The floor was hard, prickly boards of wood, and she had to be careful sitting down on it. There were a pair of mattresses thrown down on the floor for them, but they were old and filthy. Akiko didn't want to sit on the floor, but her mother had always drilled into her the importance of cleanliness. She would definitely tell her off if she knew she had sat on one of the mattresses.

The thought of her mother and the memory of her voice, no matter how stern, brought fresh tears to her eyes. Akiko didn't know where she was and didn't know why she was here. All she knew was that her parents weren't here. She knew that the men she had seen since being taken away from her aunt were bad men, especially the one on the other side of the door, who kept watch over them.

Akiko wanted to see her parents. Each day that passed by she wondered why they hadn't come to get her. Daddy was a police officer, and so was mommy. They both helped people every day, but they hadn't come to get her yet. Did they know where she was? When were they coming to bring her back home? Daddy always promised that he would keep her safe, and that nothing bad would happen to her. She wanted him to take her away from this place. She was so scared, and cold, and hungry.

None of the other children in the room made a sound. The man liked it when they were silent. He shouted at them if they tried to speak to each other. He seemed to hear them even when they whispered. A boy was sitting beside her, knees pulled up to his chest. Akiko thought she was older than him, but she didn't dare try to ask. He had hidden his face in his arms. She heard him sniffing every few seconds, quietly and carefully. Akiko didn't even know his name. In this room, she only knew her own.

Suddenly, she heard a loud thudding sound. Startled, Akiko jumped, along with the other children. They all looked to each other. Akiko thought the sound seemed to come from below them. She heard the scrape of chair legs and hissed voices, followed afterwards by several fierce shouts. The man at their door shouted back, uttering a string of words Akiko was not supposed to hear. At the same time, she heard the thudding sound again, louder this time, and after it another. Then footsteps up the stairs, heavy and hurried.

"Cops!" another voice Akiko didn't know cursed, and then almost immediately afterwards there was the sound of breaking wood. "We gotta –"

"Police!" came the cry from below, and Akiko's eyes grew wide. A thousand voices spilled inside and she heard a rush of bodies, footsteps surging up the stairs. The two men outside the room swore. The footsteps of one of them appeared to be moving away.

"On the ground, now!"

Akiko did not realise that she had the hand of the boy beside her gripped in her own. Her heart was beating frantically, her eyes as round as plates and unblinking. The children were huddling close to each other now, not knowing what to expect, afraid and yet hopeful. The police were good people. They helped others and kept them safe. Akiko was so sure of the cry she had heard, the one she was still hearing coming up through the floorboards. On the other side of the door, they could grunts and the scuffing of feet. "Give me your arm!" a woman's voice fiercely demanded. Akiko didn't recognise it.

"Where are the children?" another voice shouted, this time belonging to a man.

The one who had been keeping them locked in the room cursed. He hissed loudly afterwards, swearing again.

"Check all the rooms. Don't drop your guard!"

"We're in here!" squeaked another little girl, who pressed her fist to her mouth afterwards, visibly trembling. The door handle rattled immediately, but did not budge.

"Locked. Don't worry, kids," a man called out. "We're coming for you. Stand away from the door, okay? As far away as you can."

They were all huddled against the furthest wall by this point, nodding automatically to the man's instructions. After a brief pause, the door suddenly burst open. Akiko jumped in her skin as it banged off the wall and its hinges screamed, pressing herself into the children at her side. With the door now open, they could each see the feet of the man who had kept them locked inside poking into view. But more importantly, in front of them in the doorway stood a police officer, and at his back several more.

Akiko recognised the uniform in an instant, having seen her mother and father in it almost every day for her whole life. Tears came to her eyes afresh, no longer the product of fear. And she was not the only one who began crying. She couldn't stop her tears from falling as the officers streamed into the room, gently taking them all up into their arms. She clung to the woman who held her, arms tight around her neck.

"Shh," the woman said softly. "You're safe now."

"I want to go home," Akiko choked out.

"We'll take you there soon. Your parents will be so glad to see you again."

Akiko cried all the more at the thought of them. She was going home at last.

* * *

"_Police! Police! Down on the ground, now!"_

Almost at the same time that she heard this, as Korra planted her hands onto the railing of the fence, the boarded window to the left of the back door exploded outwards.

The woman who had been crouching beside it was showered with broken chips of wood. She was bowled over completely a moment later when a man emerged from the window, pulling himself through the gap and landing right on top of her. The man swore fiercely as he stumbled to find his feet again and the woman reached out blindly, latching onto his ankle. Her fellow officers rushed forwards to apprehend him. Korra was halfway over the fence herself when the back door was wrenched open.

Another man rushed out into the garden, eyes dark and small and his mouth twisted into a snarl. One of the officers looked up, turning to the sudden appearance of the man, but he slipped of his own accord when he tried to quickly find his feet. Korra had barely landed on the other side of the fence as the man made a violent sweeping gesture in her direction.

A brick whipped up out of the tall, unruly grass flew through the air towards her, striking her side before she could react. Korra hissed and briefly folded, staggering backwards and meeting the fence. The man vaulted it, turning left and bolting down the footpath. Korra gritted her teeth as she cleared the fence herself, another officer on her tail.

"Get him!"

She did not need to be told twice, if at all. Korra recognised that man's eyes. Purpose filled her as she pumped her arms in pursuit of him. She had not forgotten that man at all.

Reaching another point where the footpath branched off, the man quickly turned and punched his hand forward, closing it into a fist and dragging it to the side. Bricks tumbled from the wall to her right side over their heads. Korra heard a cry from the officer at her back, a heavy impact scraping along the floor. She gasped herself as her shoulder was struck a glancing blow, her balance momentarily thrown askew. She saw the man dash to the right as she recovered, pressing on and following in his direction. Pain knifed through her shoulder and she could no longer hear swift footsteps at her back. She didn't turn to look, keeping her eyes fixed on the fleeing man's form.

He looked over his shoulder upon realising he was still being chased. Korra was ready for his bending this time, and uninhibited from using her own now that she was, for the moment, alone in her pursuit. The man ripped a slab of concrete from the footpath and sent it careening towards her. Korra batted it aside, the slab shattering upon the wall. Afterwards, she thrust the flat of her palm forwards and a sudden gust shouted through the narrow path. The man tripped over his feet as the surge of wind stole his balance, tumbling to the ground. He rolled upon meeting it and moments later Korra was upon him. But he struck first.

She was lucky to avoid the swipe of a pocketknife, almost barrelling straight into it. Korra jerked herself backwards upon seeing the glint of steel. The man advanced on her, glaring at her with cold fury in his eyes. Korra was suddenly on the defensive as he brandished the knife at her, her eyes tracking it unblinkingly. She had just come _this_ close to getting slashed with it, and with her heart pounding loudly in her ear, Korra suddenly found herself to be very wary. She had never been threatened with a knife before. Her mind was suddenly plaguing itself with ideas of the harm it could do to her if she wasn't careful. It would hurt like nothing else. The man would drive it deep into her and twist –

He lunged and Korra jumped backwards, horrified as her heel clipped the ground and she stumbled. Her back found the wall, and with eyes wide she watched the man descend upon her. Her hand shot out purely on instinct, finding his wrist before the knife found her stomach. He tried to push against her strength as she pulled his arm away to the side, but Korra was not to be overcome. With a shout locked behind gritted teeth, Korra pushed off of the wall, her right hand finding the man's throat. Hooking her foot behind his, she threw her weight into him and they fell heavily to the ground.

And now she had him.

Korra did not forget his face, his eyes, so cold and empty. It was the same man whose picture she had stared at all throughout the briefing that morning. Even if she bore the intention, she would have no need to search his mind and thoughts. Korra could see the darkness and cruelty in his gaze.

Slowly, she began to realise that the man was choking in her grip. The knife he had wielded clattered to the ground, her grip on his wrist becoming an inexorable vice. His left hand was clawing at her forearm. And Korra wondered if she should care.

She had listened to that briefing, taking in every detail that had been spoken and put before her. This man was a prominent figure within his organisation, his personal influence extending through the poorer districts of the Lower Ring. He was heavily involved in human trafficking, and his fingerprints could be found upon the most serious cases of child exploitation in the city. They weren't people to him. They were less than human, meat to be sold and traded.

Korra looked into his eyes. She saw so many lives there, so many lives that this man had _ruined._ She saw mothers weeping inconsolably, desolate as they sat beside an empty bed. Fathers searched the streets day and night, chasing after every last shadow and sign with a desperate hope that was shattered time and again. She saw the children – no, she couldn't look there. It was too much. And this man was to blame for all of it. He was in her power, in her grip, and she was going to let him reap all that he had sowed over the course of long, terrible years. All that pain and suffering…she was going to repay him for all of it.

His debt was his life.

But then Korra's grip began to loosen. She saw with clarity where once her vision was clouded by scarlet. She had walked this road before and it had led her here, to this moment. It was not an easy road. She had been forced out of the place she called home, and she feared that she had lost the man who meant the most to her, all because of that one action that she had had to fulfil.

Could she bear to walk such a road again? Could she face what would come afterwards if she did this?

And then Korra remembered.

_"You took it upon yourself to decide the fate of a man's life as though it were your right."_

_"It _is_ my right…"_

It wasn't. Not now. The right to determine the fate of this man's life did not belong to her. It was in the hands of the mothers and fathers whose hearts he had bled and whose lives he had destroyed. It was their right. And she would not take it from them. They deserved justice, and they deserved to see it done for themselves.

Korra released the man, who coughed and wheezed in the absence of her grip. She gave him no time to recover his senses, roughly turning him over onto his stomach. She pressed her knee hard into his back, dragging his arms behind him as she deftly unhooked a pair of handcuffs from her belt. The man attempted to struggle then, feebly. Korra was in no mood for it. She locked his wrists together, ignoring the wince that flashed across his face.

Another officer emerged from around the corner a few moments later, jogging over as his eyes fell upon them.

"You okay?" he asked, moving to the man's side and helping to pull him up to his feet.

Korra nodded. "Yeah. Careful with this one, he's an earthbender."

"So am I. Try anything and I'll know about it, got that?"

The man between them said nothing, eyes hateful as he was pulled forward.

Korra glanced over her shoulder. Slowly, it was beginning to dawn on her how close she had been to taking the man's life. It would have been a conscious decision this time; before she was consumed in wrath. Would she have regretted it? Would she be able to live with herself after knowing that she had done? Or perhaps the more pressing concern, she thought, was that she could so quickly turn to such means. It was the second time now that she had reached for that extreme measure of justice. But wasn't her action justified? She turned to such means in order to protect, in order to keep safe those that these men had preyed upon. And they had embodied such evil. An evil beyond redemption; an evil she could not forgive.

But there would always be a price to pay, wouldn't there? Just as she would let those men reap what they had sown, so too would she be rewarded. And she had tasted such a reward. It was a bitter thing. And painful. She would have been rewarded again if she had not relented. Korra remembered now, in the cool of the moment, her meeting with Tao and the words he had spoken to her. Would it have been worth it then, to take a life in order to protect countless others, but yet put so much at risk with her action as a result?

Not this time. Not when justice was not hers to serve.

_I need to get out of here, _Korra thought to herself, _while the door is still open to me._

* * *

Gan looked up when he heard a child's voice. At his side, his wife did the same. His heart clenched as he heard a man's voice answer to the child's, assuring her that her mother and father were close by. And then there was a knock on the door. Chief Shen walked over and pulled it open. Gan felt the tears brimming in his eyes when he saw who stood there. Emotion indescribable welled up within him, so powerful that it almost drove him to his knees. Captain Fa let go of their daughter's hand as they stepped into the room.

"_Akiko."_

Hana rushed forward, all decorum forgotten as she fell upon the child's neck. They cried together and Gan found himself rooted to the spot, so overcome by the sense of joy and relief that flooded through him. He looked up to see the captain move over to stand with the Chief, both sharing small, warm smiles. The man folded his hands behind his back and inclined his head to him.

Gan's attention was brought back to his daughter when she ran to him, her arms outstretched. He scooped her up into the air, turning on the spot before bringing her into his embrace. He whispered her name as she sobbed against him, placing a gentle kiss upon her brow. And then Hana was at his side, resting one hand on his arm and lifting the other to brush Akiko's hair out of her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed their daughter on the cheek. Akiko seemed torn about who she wanted to embrace more, so she leaned out towards her mother and looped an arm around her neck too. Gan laughed, blinking away tears. He curved an arm around his wife's waist and held them both to him.

They were a family again. Gan almost couldn't believe it. He felt like he was soaring, all sense of weight and burdens freed from his shoulders. He had never known such elation as the one that flooded through him now, making him feel lighter than air. This was all he needed, all he desired in that moment. He had his daughter in his arms and his wife at his side. They were his family, and he wanted for nothing more. Gan smiled until it ached to do so, and even then it would not fade. Kissing Akiko's brow once more, he reminded her how much he loved her. She told him the same, throwing her arms around his neck.

Gan looked up only when he heard a soft muttering between the other two men in the room.

"Let's give them a moment," Chief Shen said quietly to his captain. Fa nodded and they both turned towards the door. Before they could draw it open however, Gan finally noticed a glaring absence in the room. It was the reason he could hold his wife and daughter together in the first place.

"Chief," he called out, "where is Ava –?"

Gan caught himself just in time, remembering Akiko. Chief Shen half turned, seeming to remember his daughter too before he spoke.

"It has been a long day for all of us," the man replied. "She feels that it's time for her to leave."

"Leave?" Gan repeated, noting the difference in the Chief's tone. The man nodded, wearing an expression that Gan took several moments to read and then process correctly. When he eventually did, a jolt passed through him. He blinked several times in surprise.

Korra was leaving, just like that. She wasn't even giving him a chance to thank her for what she had done for him. But more than that, she was _leaving._ Gan could not quite formulate thoughts to understand what he was feeling, but a sense of urgency was upon him in the next moment.

"Stay with mommy, Akiko," he told her, passing her into Hana's arms, "I just need to go and speak to someone."

"Are you coming back?" his daughter asked.

"Of course, sweetie," he said, stroking her hair. "I'll be back before you know it."

She nodded in reply and Gan briefly met Hana's eye. She wore an expression he couldn't decipher in the moment. He had already turned towards the door by the next.

His stride was hurried as he walked briskly and then jogged through the corridors of the station. He knew how swift Serra – _Korra_ could be when she wanted to be 'in and out', so to speak. Gan knew he would rest uneasily for days if not weeks if he missed this chance to talk to her. The thought was not in him to try and convince her to stay. Korra would not be swayed once she made a choice, he had learned quickly. He did not know for what reason he would be asking her to stay in the first place.

He caught her as she was coming out of the locker rooms. She had exchanged her uniform for her usual casualwear, for the last time no doubt. She was so familiar and yet not. He noticed that she carried herself a little differently once she revealed to him who she really was. She stood taller, it seemed, emphasising the broadness of her shoulders. Was this the same person he had called his friend, Gan had wondered. Did he really know her?

_"How much of what you told me about yourself was true?" he asked, sitting once more at his kitchen table with his hands upon a cool glass._

_"I'm from the Southern Water Tribe, not the Northern," she replied._

_He paused for a moment to think. "So how did you really discover you could bend?"_

_"Water was my first element, and I actually did almost drown myself," Korra laughed softly. "That one wasn't just a story."_

_"How many stories did you tell me then?"_

_"Gan, all the things you've learnt about me haven't changed with my name. I'm the same woman," she told him. "I'm still your friend."_

"Serra!" he called by way of habit more than conscious decision, watching as she paused in mid-stride. She turned around as he reached her, her left arm reaching into the bag at her side.

"Gan," she said with a small smile.

"You were just going to sneak off without saying goodbye?" he said with an accusing tone.

"Ah…that was the plan," she replied with appropriate sheepishness. "You were supposed to be enjoying your reunion with your daughter. I would be gone long before you realised it."

"Now why would you do that?"

Korra sighed, drawing a length of scarlet fabric out of her bag. "I realised that I don't like farewells," she said quietly, carefully wrapping the scarf around her neck.

_"That scarf you're always wearing…you always told me it belongs to someone important to you," he said._

_"It does," Korra replied, gaze falling to her hands upon the table._

_"Is this the person you were talking about before?" Gan asked after a moment. "The one you said you cherish."_

_"Yes."_

_Gan brought his hands up to his face, rubbing at the corners of his eyes as he closed them. He thought back to that night, able to recall so distinctly the way she had reacted. And thinking back to the words Korra had only a few minutes ago spoken to him, things were beginning to fall into place._

_"You've felt this way towards him all these years," he said, hiding behind the darkness of his eyelids._

_"I have," she said softly._

_He pressed his face into his hands, cursing his foolishness._

"Listen," Gan said, glancing away but then pulling his eyes back up to meet hers. "About that night. I still…I don't know how I can make amends to you, but –"

Korra lifted a hand and waved away his words. "You've apologised already, more than once. It's behind us now, Gan. Let's both agree to forget about it, yeah?"

"Alright," he said, releasing a long breath. "Okay."

She smiled at him. It was a smile he would always remember, warm and vibrant.

"Thank you," Gan said then, "for bringing my daughter back to me. Thank you for putting my family back together again."

Korra smiled again, but then her gaze was directed over his shoulder and he saw her stiffen. Gan turned around and looked for himself. His wife was coming towards them, Akiko walking alongside her hand in hand. Gan felt his stomach tighten with apprehension. Not now; of all the things that could happen, not this. But as Hana approached, he noticed that the cold gaze she had never failed to direct at Korra was not there. Instead, his wife appeared uncertain, in her stride and her expression.

"Hana," Korra said politely when the woman came to a stop beside her husband. The deputy chief did not speak immediately, seeming to stall for time in crouching down to pick up her daughter. Afterwards, when she finally lifted her eyes to meet Korra's, she parted her lips.

"I appreciate what you've done for us," Hana said, her voice quiet and gaze unwavering. "I don't know what I would have done if I had lost my little girl."

Gan could see that Korra was very, very much taken aback by the words his wife had spoken. He was quietly surprised himself.

"Say thank you, Akiko," her mother instructed softly into the silence.

"Thank you for saving me, Serra," the little girl said, making her lips curve with their typical slant.

"I only helped out a little," Korra replied, "but you're very welcome, Akiko. I'm glad you're okay."

"Are you going home now?" the child asked when Korra adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"Yes. But my home isn't in Ba Sing Se anymore. I'm going back to my real home now."

"Does…does that mean I won't see you again?" Akiko said, disappointment evident in her voice.

Korra glanced at Gan before she answered. "Maybe not."

"I don't want you to go," the child said immediately.

She reached out and brushed her finger across Akiko's cheek. "I have to," Korra replied. "But I'll miss you."

Akiko reached forwards with her hands then, which took Korra by surprise. She glanced across at Hana, but the woman gave no sign that she disapproved. Neither did she necessarily smile, but Korra for once could see no animosity in the way she looked at her. Hana met her gaze, and after a moment Korra saw a distant light in her grey eyes, small and uncertain, but nevertheless there. She accepted the little girl into her arms then, and Akiko embraced her tightly, moving her lips to Korra's ear.

"You're more fun than mommy and daddy," she whispered.

"That's our little secret," Korra whispered back, stroking the child's hair as she giggled before setting her down on the ground. She moved back to clutch her mother's hand once more, smiling up at Korra.

"I guess this is goodbye then," Gan said, drawing her attention.

Korra nodded. "Take care of yourself." She turned her eyes to Hana and their daughter. "All of you."

"You too," Gan replied. His wife inclined her head. Korra nodded in return, but then encountered a moment of awkward hesitance.

It did not seem right to walk away with mere words as their farewell gesture. Gan's friendship had meant a lot to her. But she was unsure of what to do in Hana's presence, even if the woman's demeanour was decidedly different now. When Korra offered her hand to Gan, he lifted his own and gripped her forearm, lifting his other to her shoulder. He held her eyes for a moment and then nodded. Korra breathed a little easier and smiled.

"Bye bye, Serra!" Akiko bid her when she turned around and began to walk down the corridor.

Korra lifted a hand and waved her farewell. Then she paused.

"Thanks for lending me that book," she called down the corridor. "I left it in your locker."

Gan frowned. "My locker is…locked," he said in return, and then Korra showed him that typical grin of hers one last time. He couldn't help but chuckle as understanding slowly sank in.

"Good luck," he called back to her.

This time, as she walked away, Korra did not turn back.


	24. Chapter 24

Mako stepped out into the cool night air, the shadow of a scowl falling across his features. The receptionist had called him over once he stepped out of the elevator. He was more than inclined to ignore her but for her loud voice and insistent tone. After relenting and walking back over to her desk, she proceeded to waste his time with talk of needing to make official note of his visit, rifling around for whatever means she planned to do so with.

_"Just a moment, just a moment. I'm certain it's around here somewhere…"_

Mako turned on his heel and left her to it, his patience for her nonsense quickly worn thin.

He pulled on the lapels of his coat, drawing it around him more securely. He pushed his hands into his pockets, tucking his chin in towards his chest and pointing his eyes low. Mako realised his intentions as he struck up a brisk pace, his long strides carrying him swiftly down the street. It did not properly dawn on him when he answered Asami's questions, but now, in the presence of nothing but his own thoughts, Mako knew what he was about to do.

_Bro, what are you doing?_

_I'm doing this for you,_ he answered. At which point his brother's voice tried to dissuade him. Gently at first, until Mako refused to hear it and found himself being told that he was being reckless, careless and downright stupid. He was about to walk himself into the arms of the Triple Threats.

_You're all I have left and you're going to get yourself killed._

_You're all _I_ have left, and they almost killed you._

That was it, quite simply. Mako had promised to protect his little brother; he had promised to keep what was left of their little family intact. But someone had come along and tried to tear it apart. Someone had tried to take away that which had kept him tethered to reality and himself for so long. And Mako had to know why, now that he knew who that someone was.

While his feet carried him in one direction, his thoughts carried him in another. He could not quite describe the emotions that crashed and stormed within him when he heard the news of Bolin's accident. Neither could he describe what it was to look down at his brother, unconscious with broken limbs strung up, his face slackened in a drug-induced state of sleep and yet still tight with pain. But those moments stuck with him, fresh and clear before his mind's eye, reminding him of his failure. Reminding him that it was no longer in his power to protect his little brother as he once had, from anything and everything. The thought accompanied him daily, that he had failed his brother and that he was powerless to protect him, and now it was only compounded by the truth that had been revealed to him.

Mako knew when he crossed into Triple Threat territory. He kept his head down, walking quickly, just like that night almost three years ago, except this time he was not following someone's shadow. His feet knew the way they should walk, though he had not taken this path in years. It was uncannily familiar to him. He kept his eyes from meeting the gaze of others as he passed them by, innocent pedestrian or otherwise. He eventually came upon the place he sought. It was where it had always been and looked like it always had.

The last time he had stood before this building, Korra was at his side. The streets were empty and the road behind them quiet, and both were equally determined to find his brother. Now, he was alone, the drone of passing cars washing over him and men and women walking through his line of sight as he regarded the restaurant. Light was scattered across the face of the building, windows glowing upon each of its storeys. Mako could hear the quiet clinking of cutlery and the murmur of conversation seeping through the doors. As he approached the raised platform of the wooden porch, he faintly began to detect the mingling aromas of food upon the air.

A bell tinkled above his head when he pushed open the doors, and Mako invited himself into the restaurant. He gave pause no sooner had he set foot across the threshold. The place had changed. The restaurant's renovations were apparent, most notably in the size of the room, which was larger than he remembered it to be all those years ago. It had a tidier, sharper look to it, the arrangement of the tables and chairs looking much less like they had been scattered nonchalantly about the room and this time organised with some thought in mind. Mako's eyes found the bar built into the right hand side of the room, several stools in front of it duly occupied. He moved forwards in that direction, lest he gather too many eyes upon him by standing still at the restaurant's doors.

Moving across the room, Mako naturally turned his gaze to consider his surroundings. It was a habit instilled into himself from as young as the age of ten, only becoming sharper when he trained as and eventually became a police officer. Determining what was around him was something he could rarely stop himself from doing, though the habit had brought him more fortune than not. Before he reached the bar then, Mako noticed two particular details.

First was that there were two tables to the side and corner of the room each occupied by a pair of men he could immediately identify as triad muscle. They sat opposite each other, either quietly conversing or passing their eyes over the room. It was this which brought to Mako's attention the second detail.

Zolt.

He was sitting in a booth opposite the bar on the far side of the room. Mako managed only just to avoid halting in his stride when he saw him. The corners of his mouth tightened as he pushed himself forwards, occupying one of the vacant stools at the bar. He shifted and turned himself to keep the man in his sight, at the same time able to naturally turn and converse with the barkeep, forgetting almost immediately what he had asked for.

Zolt was not sitting alone Mako realised, when he turned his eyes back to the booth. There was another man with him. Mako received a strange impression as he observed the second man, almost as though he should have known him but didn't. Regardless of whether he did or did not, for the time being Mako could not do as he wanted. The very man that he had come here with the intention of speaking to was but mere metres away, but he had to exercise his patience and wait. His grip was tight around the base of the glass set before him as he turned his eyes away.

He glanced more frequently than was perhaps wise in the direction of the booth as the minutes ticked by, eventually beginning to feel the curiosity of the triad men turning in his direction. But he could not help himself. His limbs were tense as impatience began to overtake him, a quiet undercurrent of anger rippling across his skin.

It was this which he fought most to control, even as he began to rap his knuckles against the counter of the bar. Only an irritated glare from the woman beside him stilled his hand. His smile was fleeting, offering a quick apologetic gesture. Afterwards, he looked back to Zolt's booth. The man he had been conversing with was rising to his feet. He had a contented look to his expression that said 'Pleasure doing business with you" as much as his lips did.

Mako let go of his glass and rose to his feet as the man shuffled out of the booth, straightening his coat before inclining his head to Zolt and turning to leave. He fixed his gaze upon the older man, his teeth clenching as he pushed away from the bar. Mako was aware of the eyes of the triad men upon him. He heard the scrapes of chairs being pushed backwards as he made directly for Zolt's booth. But neither deterred him. He had eyes only for Zolt, his heart beating hard in his chest and his fingers curling in towards his palm.

The man looked up when his approach was impeded. Zolt shifted in his seat, smiling pleasantly up at him. Mako thought better of shrugging out of the rough grip upon his shoulder, though he wanted to do nothing more in that moment.

"And who might you be, young man?" Zolt said, regarding him with interest.

"You know me," Mako replied curtly. "Don't pretend otherwise."

As though in response to the sharp tone of his voice, the hand upon his shoulder tightened. Mako scowled and this time pulled himself out the man's grasp.

"Let him be," Zolt said lightly, lifting his hand.

Mako glared at the man at his side, feeling another's presence behind him. The restaurant had quietened. Eventually, at Zolt's word, they backed away, though Mako felt the men's gaze heavy upon him. He turned back to face Zolt.

"Hm," the man said, searching his face with a slanted curve to his lips. "Yes, I recognise those eyes of yours. How could I have forgotten them? So young, and yet so severe."

Mako said nothing in response. It took enough effort to keep his intentions from becoming actions.

"Well, my dear boy, take a seat," Zolt said then, speaking with a smooth, cultured tone as he gestured to the opposite side of the booth. Mako managed not to snarl at the way the man addressed him, moving into the booth and sitting down. For a moment he did not know what to do with his hands. Placing them on the table would tempt him beyond his means, he was sure. He set them beneath the table instead, safely out of the way. Zolt, on the other hand, leaned forward with interest, his hands set before him.

"How is life treating you, Mako?"

Again, he said nothing. A part of him advised him to temper his gaze, for he could feel in the crease of his brow how intensely he was staring at the man across from him. Zolt merely smiled when he did not receive an answer.

"How about your career?" he asked. "I'm sure you're moving up in the world." Zolt shifted in his seat then, lifting a hand to gesture in a small, circular motion. "What is it you do again? Memory doesn't serve me well."

"I'm sure it doesn't," Mako said.

Zolt lowered his hand and leaned backwards, a small smirk rising to his lips. "Joining Republic City's Police Force," he said quietly. "How very honourable of you. I wonder if your superiors are aware of what you used to do with your spare time."

Mako remained silent. It unnerved him that Zolt should know that he had become a police officer, though he had expected it. The man had warned him, so many years ago, that leaving the Triple Threats did not mean that they would forget about him.

"Interesting," Zolt said, "though perhaps that is a wise choice on your part. I can't imagine you would be looked upon favourably if they knew your past affiliations, would they?"

"I'm not here for your questions," Mako said roughly.

"Well then, my dear boy," Zolt said, lifting his hands, "tell me what it is I can do for you."

"You put my brother in hospital. I want to know why."

Zolt affected a look of confusion. "Remind me again who –"

"Bolin," Mako said fiercely. "You remember him."

"Ah yes, the one you could hardly be parted from. We used to say you two were all but joined to the hip. Are you still so close?"

"You put my brother in hospital," Mako said, biting off each pair of words. "Why?"

"I can assure you I had no personal involvement in the incident –"

"So you know," Mako cut across the man, glaring hard at him.

"I generally make it my business to know what takes place on my streets. So yes, I know."

"Why?" Mako demanded. "Bolin did nothing to you. I've done nothing to you. We've both kept as far away from you and your schemes as possible."

And here, Mako sat forwards, the emotions running through him demanding if not action then movement. His hands found themselves in the form of fists, pressed against the table's surface.

"I did my due for you, Zolt. I ran your numbers and kept your accounts in order better than most of the other fools you had doing the same."

"So you did," the man replied, his smile refusing to fade. "You were rather efficient, I must admit."

"You promised me that I and my brother wouldn't be troubled by your people once we left. You _promised_ me."

"Circumstances are always changing," Zolt replied lightly. "One day, along comes an arrangement more…beneficial than the one that was made before."

"What the hell could Bolin have done?" Mako said, with an effort keeping his voice from rising. The restaurant, while far from full of patrons, was also far from empty.

"He gained quite a name for himself among certain circles," Zolt said almost with a contemplative tone. In the heat of his emotions, Mako did not quite follow the man's words.

"_Why._"

Zolt's eyes glimmered with a sense of amusement. "It's quite simple really. He fashioned himself into a rather useful tool, your brother," Zolt said. "It's just unfortunate that he fell into an undesired pair of hands."

"Just unfortunate…" Mako repeated numbly.

The silence that stretched between them was thick with tension, all of it exuding from Mako's barely restrained form. He had no idea what manner of strength kept him seated, but he could feel his nails sharp against the flesh of his palm.

"Bolin is lying in hospital with a broken arm and leg, because of you," he said slowly.

"It was nothing personal," Zolt replied calmly. "Purely a matter of business, I assure you."

Mako was across the table in the next second. His eyes were afire and Zolt choked in his grip. At least that was what would have been the reality, were it not for the thick pair of hands that latched onto his arms the moment he jumped out of his seat. Mako had not realised the presence of Zolt's muscle at his back.

"I'm going to kill you," Mako growled through clenched teeth, his words loud and ringing in the silence that descended upon the room.

"You're a bold young man," Zolt commented as Mako fought against the iron grip holding him back. "It's rare that I am threatened in such simplistic fashion – or at all, for that matter. It's almost refreshing, your courage. Many would call it stupidity," he said lightly. "But I will forgive you this time."

"I don't want your damn forgiveness," Mako hissed as he felt his shoulder painfully twist.

Zolt leaned forward, resting one arm along the edge of the table and lifting his other hand to grip Mako's chin.

"You've forgotten who I am and what I can do," Zolt said quietly, no longer smiling. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his voice grew chill, a dangerous shadow flitting across them. "I could end your life right where we sit, and not a hair upon my head would be troubled afterwards. I could do it right before all these people who are watching us now and not a word would leave this place. Why? Because, my boy, they are all intelligent people. They know where the power in this city lies. Let your police friends walk in here, right now, and you would see it for yourself."

"So, I think that my forgiveness should be sufficient for you, no?" Zolt said then in a jovial tone, patting Mako's cheek in a friendly manner. "You're an intelligent young man. I can tell."

"You hurt my brother," Mako said, eyes furious. "You promised we would be left alone."

Zolt gestured nonchalantly. "Some promises must be broken. Such is life."

Mako struggled against the man holding him as he was dragged bodily out of the booth. He glared murder at Zolt, straining against the powerful grip holding him in check. The man merely smiled at him as he was pulled away from the booth.

"I think a lesson is in order," Zolt said then, a cigar finding its way between his fingers. "It would be remiss of me to not remind you to show respect to your elders, after all."

As he renewed his struggle, Mako realised the presence of two more men. The last stayed behind at Zolt's gesture. The night air was chill as he was pushed out the back doors of the restaurant, the clangour of the kitchen he had been dragged through left behind. The alley behind the building stretched into the darkness, the wall immediately beside the restaurant's back door lined with overflowing trashcans. Mako jerked back his head, a swift, dull ache spreading from the point of impact as he hit the man's cheekbone.

Weathering the brief pain, Mako wrested himself from the grip of the man as he reeled backwards. He turned around immediately, putting his back to the opposite wall. His first option, which was to run, was hindered by the position the men took around him, two of them moving to block his left and right side. The last, the one who now snarled at him in the wake of being head-butted, stood directly in front of him. As the two men to either side of Mako neared, the third began to strip off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal thick forearms.

"This won't be pretty," he was told. "But we promise to enjoy it on your behalf."

Mako grimaced. It had been years since he was last forced to fight. Even if he had been in peak physical condition, the odds were most definitely not in his favour. Nevertheless, he lifted his arms, curling his hands into fists and wreathing them in flame. His priority was to get away from these men as quickly as possible. He had no intention of sticking around to try and fight them all.

The wash of heat across his skin was akin to a softly spoken word as he turned to his left, throwing his fist forward. The man he had aimed at retreated quickly away from the flames that punched towards him. Mako was not aiming to harm, but to grab enough space and time to allow him to get the hell out of there. His attention needed to be split three ways however, and this was nothing like having to fight solo upon the Pro-Bending playfield. The sanctuary offered by rules did not exist here. There would be no buzzer or referee to keep these men in check.

The heavyset man directly in front of him lumbered forwards, fist swollen with fire. Mako only just managed to pull his chin out of the man's reach, light on his feet as he retreated backwards. Another pulse of flame surged towards him from his right side. Pure instinct raised his arms in that direction, a swift flick of his wrist fighting fire with fire. Orange tongues flitted through the air upon the collision of the flame-fuelled strikes. Mako momentarily wondered which element the third man would be wielding.

The third man.

Mako violently expelled his breath as a fist slammed into his stomach. He had not seen it coming and it drove the wind clean from him. The powerful slug extinguished his flames and sent him to his knees, an arm clutched around his torso as he wheezed desperately. He heard a low chuckle as the shadows of the three men fell over him.

"Trying to be a hero, fighting three on one?" a voice laughed at him. "I hope you're not dumb enough to think you could have won."

Mako had a smart remark to retort with, but he could only try to gulp down air when he opened his mouth. Hands gripped his arms and shoulders, pulling him roughly to his feet. He was held in place, gasping audibly. The man in front of him rolled his shoulders, pushing his sleeves back up to his elbows.

"Look at you. You look fucking pathetic," the man told him, sneering all the while. "Though you'll look much worse when we're through with you."

Mako tensed the moment he saw the fist coming. Still he groaned and sagged in the other men's grip when he was struck in the gut once more. He heard laughter as he blinked hard against the pain, choking out his breath.

"Don't tell me you're all done after just one go?" his assailant said, gripping his chin and pulling his face upwards. "Think we'll leave you alone if you curl up like a pussy? Ha, fuck that. We're gonna have fun with you."

Mako winced despite himself when the man held onto his shoulder for leverage, drawing back his fist. But the blow he expected never came. The gloved hand of a shadow gripped the man's wrist.

"Not tonight."

The man was turning, eyes pulled wide with surprise as the shadow moved. An elbow crashed into his face, the sound of the impact sickeningly dull. The man stumbled backwards before he fell, arms flailing before he hit the ground. Mako slumped forwards as his arms were released. The men holding him turned away to face their sudden new opponent, curses flying from their lips. Mako looked up as he pressed a hand to his stomach.

It was the Equalist.

He had only a moment to watch the masked woman dance away from a burst of flame, afterwards noticing the downed man pushing himself slowly up onto his hands and knees. Despite the dull ache that pulsed through his gut, Mako clenched his jaw and pushed away from the wall at his back. The man barely found his feet before he leapt at him.

After the force behind the strike that the man had cleanly taken, Mako was surprised that he was still conscious. Its effects were more than evident however, not only in the ribbon of blood painted along the side of his face but the woozy look to his eyes. Mako gave thanks for small favours; the man was decidedly bigger than he was.

He ducked beneath a wild swing, dimly aware of the sounds of fighting behind him. He popped up again with an uppercut and the man teetered momentarily upon his heels. He swung again when he recovered some semblance of balance. Mako grimaced against his own pain as he ducked and moved forwards, rounding the man as he overextended and staggered. Mako came up behind him and wrapped his left arm around the man's neck. He locked the choke by gripping his right bicep, bringing his arm up alongside the man's head. He pulled inwards with all his might, turning his face away from the man's desperately reaching hands. He spluttered violently, wasting what breath he had on monosyllabic cursing. Mako immediately loosened the hold when the man slumped in unconsciousness.

Instinct brought a bulb of fire to his hand after he lowered the man's limp form to the ground. He straightened, turning towards the Equalist and the two men. But those men were lying on the ground, sprawled out and similarly unconscious. The Equalist was several strides away. She had something pointed directly at his chest. Mako froze.

"Put it out."

Mako tilted his head as the command was issued from beneath the equalist mask. He remembered donning the uniform himself years before, when he and Korra planned to sneak onto Air Temple Island in order to confront Amon. The mask fit tightly over one's face, comfortable breathing facilitated by a small ventilation device around which the fabric of the mask was woven. He noted that speaking with this device in front of the mouth lent a strange mechanical edge to one's voice, stripping away the nuances of tone. The effect it had on the Equalist's voice seemed to be more pronounced however. Nevertheless, he knew her gender for certain the moment she spoke, and in spite of the matching reports he had read for himself, Mako was still surprised.

He complied with her command, allowing the flame cupped in his hand to melt away on the wind. He gazed with both slight apprehension and curiosity at the object held in her outstretched hand, unable to recognise its form. After that, his eyes turned to the Equalist herself, studying her appearance. Her garb was notably darker than what he remembered the equalist uniform to be, not to mention that she had supplemented hers with body armour. It did not appear to be composed of metal, which surprised him, though the dim light of the alley was perhaps not reliable enough to judge by.

"Turn around and start walking," the Equalist spoke. "Do it quickly. Make no sudden movements."

Mako didn't move at all. He was listening intently to the woman's voice.

"I can knock you out and carry you instead," she told him. "I'd rather not have to."

Her fingers moved along the length of the object she had pointed at him. Mako began to hear a strange whining coming from it. At the same time, one of the fallen men started to groan.

"Move!" the Equalist hissed.

Mako frowned. The mechanical rasp of her voice kept him from hearing any nuance within it that he might find familiar. But he obeyed her once again and turned around. He heard her footsteps shadowing his as he began to walk.

"Who are you?" he asked the obvious question as they proceeded down the alley, the walls of joined buildings rising to either side of them.

"Turn here," the Equalist said a few moments later, once they reached an opening in the wall to their right.

He did as she told him. After a few steps, he could hear the sounds of the odd car going to and fro at the other end of the alley. The Equalist stopped him when his stride carried him up to a manhole cover.

"Lift it up."

Mako crouched down and began prying the manhole open. He paused upon hearing the sounds of voices. Male voices. Angry voices.

"We don't want to be caught here," the Equalist said. "Hurry up."

"Getting this thing off isn't easy," Mako retorted, looking up.

"Don't argue with me," she told him, her arm never wavering. "Just open it."

With narrowed eyes and a strained grunt, he dug his fingers into the narrow gap between the disk of dense metal and the rim of the hole. He managed at last to pull it up, at which point the Equalist ordered him down into the hole. She was swift to follow after him, pulling the manhole cover back into place. She aimed the peculiar object in her gloved hands at him all the way down the ladder.

Mako dropped down into the tunnel, dusting off his hands as he straightened and rose to his feet. The Equalist did not do the same until he had walked forwards several steps. When he made to turn around, she warned him not to. His curiosity was powerful, but he did not know what the object (which he assumed was a weapon) that she held in her hand could do. It was better to be safe than sorry, even if there was a part of him that was sure the masked woman would not react violently if he disobeyed her. Thoughts were chasing each other around his head now that he was in her presence, thoughts he had tried to push to the back of his mind and keep there.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they began to navigate the tunnels, the Equalist instructing him short and sharply where to turn.

"You'll see. Turn around."

They walked the length of another short tunnel before he spoke again.

"Who are you?"

"I remember telling you to walk, not talk," the woman replied.

"I'm just curious," Mako said, listening to the echoes of their footsteps upon the cold, slanted walls. "Not many women I know who would do what you're doing."

The Equalist didn't answer him. Her silence only accentuated the tight feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach, which still ached with the blows he had received. He remembered sitting at his typewriter, listening to the conversation of his colleagues.

"Not many women I know who could put two – well, practically three thugs down like that," he said, and again silence was his answer.

_And now she's back, cleaning up Republic City…_

Mako swallowed hard before his spoke. He could hear the beat of his heart and feel its pulse at his throat. Though he knew how ridiculous the notion seemed, he dared to hope. He didn't care what it would mean afterwards, because if it was her, if it was really her…

"Korra?"

He heard the woman's stride pause. Mako came to a stop himself.

"Korra, is that you?"

He braced himself as he turned to face her, not knowing what to expect. But he did it. The Equalist stood there with her raised arm slightly lowered, her eyes hidden behind the bulbous golden goggles of her mask. She had obtained an old duffle bag from somewhere, he noticed, brown, worn and looped over her left shoulder. He wondered what was in it, but right now it didn't matter.

"Korra?" the woman repeated, and Mako detected a hint of confusion. But he did not believe it.

"You know who you are," he told her.

"Huh," she said. It almost sounded like a note of laughter. "Korra. The Avatar, Korra? That's who you think I am?"

Disappointment rose swiftly to claim him, but Mako held it at bay for one more moment. He knew no other woman as strong as Korra, as capable and as brave as her. Who else would be crazy enough to don the equalist mask and take the fight to the streets under its guise? It was just like her to do something like that. He remembered now all those times where she had expressed her dissatisfaction with the ability of the police, and of how restricted she felt in her own responsibilities. Taking on such a persona as the Equalist would free her of those restrictions. Who else, he thought, who else could it be?

"Well, aren't you?" Mako said aloud.

"I'm no more the Avatar than you are," the Equalist told him. "Where ever the hell she is, it's not here in this city. And she is not me."

Despite the nature of her voice, Mako thought he could hear a certain bite to the tone the masked woman used.

"Others think differently," he said then.

"The Avatar doesn't deserve to have her name put to such rumours."

Mako frowned. "Why not?"

"Why not?" the Equalist repeated. "I wonder if you've heard the rumours that surround our Avatar."

'Our', the woman had said. So it was more than likely she was a citizen of Republic City.

"There are always rumours," Mako said, failing to notice the defensive tone that slipped into his voice.

"She left this city and no one seems to have a straight story as to why. But you would have to be blind to not see the state things have been deteriorating into the moment she left."

"What are you saying?"

The woman lifted her arm again. "The Avatar had a responsibility for the people of Republic City and she ran away from it. Whatever she did and the mess she left behind, innocent people are the ones having to pay for it. Now turn around," she told him. "Start walking."

Mako opened his mouth to argue, and then he remembered Zolt. Then he remembered his brother.

"Don't test my patience," he was warned when he remained still. "I'd rather not have to drag you through the tunnels, but I will if you force me to."

Her words reminded him of where they were. She was leading him through the tunnels and he hadn't been paying attention, occupied completely with the desperate, nonsensical hope that Korra was mere inches away from him. One of the numerous priorities of his department was locating the underground cells of Equalist extremists, who despite the thorough searches by Police still retained a healthy collection of hideouts beneath the city. But this woman was unlike any Equalist he had ever encountered. The manner in which she was armed and armoured spoke volumes in that respect.

"Are you taking me back to your cell?" Mako tried.

"I'm getting you out of Triple Threat territory."

That did not necessarily answer his question, and he could not read the manner of intent from her voice. At the very least, he thought then, she had prevented him from being beaten into a pulp.

"I appreciate your help back there," he said. "I don't think I would be a pretty sight right now otherwise.

"Probably not," the woman agreed.

"I suppose I'm lucky that you happened to be in the area."

"Lucky for you. Not for me," the Equalist said. "I would have preferred not to waste my time saving you."

"That's a comforting thought. You might as well tell me you had better things to do."

"I did," she said. "And now the moment has passed."

"What are you?" Mako asked then, as they turned down into another tunnel. "You've taken to the streets and seem to have an agenda against the Triple Threats."

"Have I?"

"There have been three reported encounters with you so far, all of them inside Triple Threat territory and all of them resulting in unconscious triad members."

The woman appeared to give pause. "You're well informed."

"And now tonight, you just happened to be even deeper in their territory," Mako continued, daring to turn his head just enough so that he could glance over his shoulder, "pretty much right on top of Lightning Bolt Zolt."

"Bravo."

"What were you doing there?"

"Making observations, until you came along and needed rescuing," she replied. "Now walk," she said, as he opened his mouth to speak again. "No more talking."

Mako heard the sound of a click followed by that strange whining once more. He decided not to press his luck. At least not until they finally stopped walking and the masked woman directed him towards the rungs of a ladder set into a small alcove. Mako could look up to see the dark bronze disk that sealed the manhole.

"Where am I coming out?" he asked her.

"Onto Black Street."

He nodded, moving forward and placing his foot on the first of the rungs. Afterwards, he turned back to face the Equalist.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why are you fighting the Triple Threats?"

"Who says that I am?" she replied.

"Because that's exactly what it looks like."

"I'm doing what I can do for the sake of those who can't," the woman told him. "And I shouldn't have to be doing this, but I think we've waited for our Avatar's return for a little too long now."

"She'll come back," Mako said automatically.

"Will she," the Equalist replied, and it was not a question. "For how many years have we all been waiting? Enough, I think. The Avatar is gone, and it's past time we stop looking for a promise she never made. Now, get going," she told him. "I've seen more than enough of you for one night."

"Let me help you," Mako said suddenly.

The Equalist tilted her head. If he could see her face, he could more than imagine the expression with which he was being studied. But, he realised, he was being entirely serious.

"Excuse me?"

"Let me help you."

"I don't have time for this," the woman said. "Get moving."

"I'm not going anywhere," Mako told her. "Let me help you."

"You have no idea what you're asking me. You've no idea who I am or what I do."

"You're fighting the Triple Threats. That's all I need to know."

"Why?" she asked him.

"They tried to take my brother from me," Mako answered in a quiet voice. "They almost killed him."

"But he is still alive."

"Yes."

"Then be grateful and leave it at that," the Equalist told him. "Don't throw your own life away."

"My brother wasn't the first, and he won't be the last," Mako returned. "The Triple Threats don't care about people's lives. Zolt only cares about power, about control. He has more of it now than he has ever had before."

"And it's not up to you to stop him. Concern yourself with your brother and nothing else. Keep yourself out of trouble."

"How?" Mako snapped. "How do I do that? How do I keep my brother safe? How do I know that one night they won't find him in his hospital bed and finish what they started? I have as much reason as you to oppose the Triple Threats."

"Go home," the woman said, turning away. "In the morning you will reconsider everything you're saying right now."

"So long as my brother's life is at risk, I won't," Mako called after her. "You said it yourself; we can't sit by and wait for the Avatar to show up and solve our problems." He glanced down then, his eyes darkened. "Who's to say that she isn't the reason they exist in the first place."

The Equalist had paused in her stride. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him.

"I'll remember you," she said after a long moment of stillness.

Mako nodded slowly, carefully. The masked woman inclined her head in return and walked away.

* * *

Somewhere out upon the open water, a young woman stood at the bow of a swift boat, her grip firm and unyielding about the railing. She looked out across the sea, searching for that which her eyes could not yet see but she knew to be there. She was close now, so close. And the closer she grew, the more anxious she became. That was why her hand gripped the railing so tightly, for otherwise it would tremble. Her other moved frequently to the scarlet length of fabric wound around her neck, as though to reassure herself that it was not lost, stolen away by the winds.

A man came up to stand at her side, his appearance almost too quiet for her hearing.

"How long now?" the young woman asked, eyes only for the ocean and what lay ahead.

"A day, give or take," the man replied. "You should rest," he said quietly.

She nodded, turning aside to briefly smile. "Thank you."

The man inclined his head and left her. The young woman lifted her hand to check that the scarf was still there. She was so close, and yet so far. She could almost reach out and touch him.

The day to come would be the longest.


	25. Chapter 25

The young woman looked out first towards Air Temple Island, the ferry which would take its passengers across waiting patiently in the docks. She fidgeted, though she tried her best not to. Eventually, she thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket and willed them to remain there. They itched to disobey her, wanting to rise up to the scarlet fabric wrapped carefully around her neck, a single tail trailing down towards her chest. But, with great effort, she let it alone.

"Are you certain you don't want me to take you there?" the man standing at her side asked.

The young woman shook her head. "I'll be fine. I want to walk."

"It's a fair distance."

"I know."

The man nodded. "Then we will go and inform the Councilman of your return."

"Good. And ask him not to raise a fuss about this," the young woman said quietly, "at least not for tonight."

"Of course," the man replied. He turned to her then, and she glanced across to see that he regarded her meaningfully. "I wish you the best of luck," he told her.

She tried to smile. "Thank you, Takka."

They parted ways, and now the young woman turned her eyes to the city. It had been so long, almost three years, and yet the sense of familiarity she experienced was strong. And welcome. She settled into the smells and sights and sounds of the streets she walked, tucking her chin towards her chest and pointing her eyes low. She was not worried about being recognised as much as trying her best to quell the chaos of her thoughts. She was a simple Water Tribe woman out for an evening stroll tonight, nothing more.

Her feet knew the way they should walk, so the young woman let them lead her. With each step came the realisation that she was getting closer. She grew more nervous at the thought, nervous and uncertain of her courage. Could she do this? Could she really do this? After all this time, after almost _three years_…could she stand in front of him? But there was no other choice, was there? She bit into her lower lip as she considered one.

She could always turn back, take the ferry over to Air Temple Island instead and try this tomorrow, when her heart was not thudding at her breast and her stomach churning unpleasantly. Her skin was prickly with nerves beneath her jacket and she could not reach the itch to tame it. But she chastised herself. She had to do this now, tonight. She would not run away from it.

A hand emerged from her pocket clutching a small box in its grasp. As fellow pedestrians passed her by, oblivious to all but their own lives and concerns, the young woman flipped open the tab of the box and shook out a cigarette. She brought it to her lips and obscured her mouth with her hands, lighting the cigarette carefully.

It was getting dark, but the streets were still busy enough for someone to potentially spot her creating her own flame. No one knew she had returned to the city, and the only person she wanted to know that tonight was him. He would know she had smoked, she knew. He wouldn't like it. But she needed it, to calm her jangling nerves. She did not know how she would be able to face him otherwise.

It did soothe her, somewhat. Or at least granted her the illusion that she had become a little calmer. Either way, she would not complain. The young woman pulled gently on the cigarette as she walked, briefly holding the smoke in her mouth before releasing it into the air. Yes, he would definitely know that she had smoked. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. No going back now, though.

She came to a stop, standing across the road from his apartment building. The young woman looked up; his apartment was on the fourth floor. His apartment. She had always called it that, but somewhere at the back of her mind a small voice would supply '_their_ apartment'. That's the way it had been, surely, from the moment he gave her a set of keys for the place. He said it in everything but words. It was their apartment, their home. But now she did not know if that was still true.

The young woman ground out her cigarette before crossing over the road and heading for the building. She steeled herself as she pushed through the doors. With each step, she seemed to picture him more clearly. She did not see him smiling. All she could see was the man that had stood over her in her unconsciousness, watching her in silence.

Her legs were heavy when she reached the fourth floor, her feet becoming leaden weights. Her hands left her pockets without her realisation. She clutched them together in front of her, fidgeting. She passed one door and then another. Closer and closer, nearer and nearer, until she finally stood in front of his.

She had dreamed of this moment, over and again, reciting the words she would say and sculpting his reaction to each and every one of them. The young woman nodded to herself. She knew what she was going to say to him. She gathered her courage, all of it, drawing it from the deepest depths of her being and begging her beating heart to grow calm. And then, the young woman lifted her left hand and knocked on the door.

* * *

Mako set his briefcase down at his feet, lifting a hand to briefly rub at the ache forming in his neck. He pushed his key into the lock of his front door and turned it, after hearing that telling click retrieving his briefcase and pushing the door open. His keys and shoes returned to their customary resting place once he pushed the door shut at his back. He shrugged out of his coat, tossing it across the back of his couch. He set his briefcase down beside it.

Once more rubbing his neck and tilting his head until he heard a satisfactory crack, Mako stepped into the kitchenette. He pulled open the door of his fridge and gripped the cool glass of a beer bottle in his hands. Pushing that door closed, Mako turned around and rummaged through a drawer to find the bottle opener. The cap of the bottle rattled as it hit the counter. Mako pulled long and hard when he brought the beer to his mouth. He released a heavy sigh as he lowered it again, first of contentment and then weariness. It had been a long day and he had not gotten many hours of sleep the previous night.

He lay restless beneath his sheets, the Equalist appearing behind his eyelids whenever he lowered them. Vestiges of adrenaline pumped through his system, keeping him alert despite his desiring sleep. The masked woman's voice played through his mind time and again. He studied the mechanical rasp of her voice in vain, trying to puzzle out its true nature. His attention more often than not turned to the exact words she had spoken, remembering the hints of a sharp and bitter tone that slipped into her voice when she spoke of the Avatar. He lay awake, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom as he considered them.

Lack of sleep had made its mark upon him throughout the day. He felt lethargic, the hours dragging themselves along one after the other. At one point, he closed his eyes for a minute or two and was shaken awake several later, forehead resting on his hands beside his typewriter.

Mako lifted the beer bottle to his mouth again and determined for himself somewhat of an early night. He had some paperwork to get done, but he figured he would worry about that later.

Moving out of the kitchenette with the sole intention of flopping down on the couch, Mako paused when he heard a series of knocks upon his front door. He stopped in the middle of the room, lifting his eyes to the ceiling with a small shake of his head and a quiet curse. He was not in the mood to entertain company, no matter how brief. He stood unmoving as his prospective visitor bid for his invitation once more.

_Knock knock._

_Knock knock._

Mako eventually stepped towards the door. He had no idea who was on the other side of it or what they wanted, but he was fully intent on letting them know that he was less than accommodating at the moment. He was tired and right now wanted nothing more than peace and quiet. With bottle still in hand, Mako reached out for the handle and the upper latch and pulled the door open.

His arms went boneless when he saw who was standing there. He knew her in an instant, from the oceanic blue of her eyes and the way her thick, dark hair fell to frame her face to the way her lips slanted when she tried to smile at him. And as though to assure him that this was no illusion, the red of his scarf was looped around her neck.

"Korra."

Her smile was fleeting, and faded quickly. His face had grown blank, his arms slack at his sides as he stood in the doorway. A beer bottle was mere moments from slipping from his grasp. Korra looked back up to meet his eyes, his gaze pinned unblinkingly upon her. She tried to speak, but no words came and she closed her mouth, glancing away. Silence enveloped them as they stood on either side of the threshold to his apartment. Korra fidgeted with her hands as she took a deep breath. She looked up at Mako and asked a question she had never needed to.

"Can…can I come in?"

She tried to affect a light tone, but her voice shivered when she spoke. Mako stared at her for a long moment, as though she had not spoken. As though he could not believe that she had spoken. He stood aside eventually, not saying a word for himself. Korra tried to smile again, but she hesitated underneath his gaze. She felt the weight of the tension in the air as she stepped forwards.

Korra almost paused when she put her foot across the threshold. She inhaled – this was home – and habit turned her eyes aside to look at the trio of hooks upon the wall beside the door. She faltered when she saw the place where she had once hung her set of keys empty.

She heard the door quietly pushed shut at her back as she moved further into the apartment. Her eyes turned from corner to corner – yes, everything was just the way it was. The telephone sitting on the small table next to the couch; the way Mako threw his coat over its back after a long, hard day; the kitchenette across the room, small and tidily kept. Korra knew this place in an instant. It was as though she had never left.

But she had.

She had been gone for so long and now, suddenly, she stood in front of him. Mako watched her back as she slowly looked around the room. He was barely aware of stretching out his arm and depositing his beer bottle onto the table beside the telephone. The hammer blow of shock had erased all his thoughts and his tongue refused to move.

He had dreamed of a moment such as this, where Korra came back to him. He had known there what he would say to her. But his lips were pressed tightly together now, sealing his words away. He had witnessed himself time after time drawing her into his embrace and holding her so tightly against him. But his arms would not move. He was still and silent at her back, watching. Waiting.

At last, she turned to face him. Her hands were curled into each other and held in front of her. Korra fidgeted as she glanced up to meet his eyes and then away. Something kept his eyelids from falling as he watched her, as though to blink would shatter this precious illusion. She met his gaze then and held it. Korra made a strange gesture, her shoulders rising half-heartedly as her hands broke apart. Her eyes were shining as she spoke.

"I'm back," she told him, in a bright and cherry tone. But the pitch of her voice was high. The corners of her lips turned down mere moments after she began smiling.

Mako said nothing in reply. He just watched her, staring as her face and shoulders fell, locked in place. His limbs refused to comply with his will, and his mind was blank anyway. He was not entirely sure if he was still breathing. Korra blinked and turned her gaze down, away from his. He watched her lift her hands to her neck after a few moments. She carefully unwound his scarf, lifting her hair as she freed it completely and held it in her hands.

"I got it, when you sent it," Korra said then, her hands moving to fold the scarf in half once and then again. She looked up at him, her thumbs caressing the fabric. Her eyes were so blue, and so desperate. "I wore it, every day that I could."

He took it from her with his left hand. He looked down at it, but didn't say anything. He couldn't. His throat refused to be unstuck.

"Mako…"

He could hear in her voice such urgency, asking something of him. Anything. But he could not answer to it, to her. He looked up to meet her gaze and no words came to unseal his lips. She turned her eyes away then, her breath seeming to hitch. Her shoulders were squared as Korra suddenly moved, stepping past him. Her voice was a pained whisper.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'll go now."

And that was when he moved. His hand snatched through the air, grasping her upper arm as she walked around him. He gripped her hard, hard enough to draw a gasp from her lips. Mako turned and pulled her around to face him.

"Don't you dare walk away again."

Korra looked up at him, meeting the hard amber gaze fixed so intensely upon her. Her breath was caught in her throat, her voice failing her. He was holding onto her like a dream he refused to let fade away. In the next moment, he had thrown his scarf down to the ground and her face was between his hands. And then his mouth was upon hers.

What breath she had left, he stole it. There was nothing else but him. Every last extraneous detail of her world fell apart, peeled away and crumbling to less than dust. All that mattered was this, here, now. Mako. She was at the mercy of his kiss, hard and desperate. It grounded her so completely, sweeping away her tumultuous thoughts. She had felt so lost, so confused, but he anchored her again.

Her heart swelled in her chest when he at last released her. Korra suddenly felt so much lighter, so much more alive. She looked up into Mako's eyes when he drew away, seeing so many emotions flit across his face in the space of a heartbeat. But the one that shone brightest was the one she felt so powerfully herself; a sense of joy, pure and giddy.

"I missed you," she told him. "Mako, _I missed you_."

He answered with another kiss. She flung her arms around his neck and drew him to her. That joyous warmth filled every inch of her, blossoming outwards from the pulse of life at her chest. He kissed her again and again, each touch of his lips swift and sweeter than the last.

"I'm sorry," Korra whispered when they drew apart, the words tumbling from her mouth. "I'm sorry," she said again, shaking her head. She didn't feel like she could say it enough, but it was all she could say. She did not know what pain she had caused him, but she saw a mere fraction of it in the shimmer of his eyes. And she was sorry, so sorry.

"You're here now, Korra," Mako silenced her, his voice and kiss fierce. "_You're here_."

"I'm here," she agreed, pressed against his chest in his embrace. "I'm here."

It was impossible to be this close to him, to be so wrapped up in him after so long spent apart, to not ache for him. Korra felt that desire awaken now, laid low by the wracking of her nerves and the cold chill of doubt that spread through her. Then, it had patiently made room for the sheer sense of joy that needed to fill her. But now it called to be suffused, and Korra ached so deeply she felt weak. She felt desperate, like a woman starved for food and panting for water. But she needed no such sustenance. She needed Mako. She needed him. For so long she had dreamt of him. She learned how to deceive herself, conjuring him into her fantasies just so that she could remember what it was to feel him. To be driven crazy by him. But she needed to pretend and dream no longer.

Because now he was here.

Korra saw the heat sparked to life in Mako's eyes when she looked up at him. He felt it too. He wanted - _needed_ her just as desperately. They kissed again, but it was different this time. It was slow and gentle, stoking simmering flames of a long starved passion. Korra tasted him and was intoxicated. In an instant, she was addicted again. An insatiable craving crept up from the depths of her being, crawling up her spine and making her flesh itch. It was an itch only Mako could satisfy.

"Get me out of these clothes," she said.

The words came to her so easily. She felt the desire and she acted on it. Korra wanted to be naked before him, pressed beneath him. She needed Mako to take her, with such passion and fury as only he could. There was a beast locked inside him. He told her once that he was afraid of it, but she wasn't. Korra recognised and understood that part of him. It was possessive, demanding and bold, and nothing could thrill her as much as the man held in its grip.

He had her pressed against the wall in seconds. She gasped when he pushed her hard into it. Clothes were shed – literally torn away in some cases. Korra needed to feel the warmth of his skin and the firm muscle of his chest, so she ripped his shirt open. Buttons skittered to the floor and her vest soon followed them. She moaned into his mouth when a hand fell upon her breast.

"Hurry up," he growled as she fumbled with his belt, his arms to either side of her head caging her in. "Now."

She rushed to obey, heart pounding in her throat. He stepped out of his trousers, kicking them to the side as she took him in hand. The ache between her thighs was insistent and Korra begged him.

"_Please," _she said, when he pinned her wrist against the wall and teased her with his arousal. She was burning up, impatient and desperate. She hated how much she loved to be teased. It made her breath ragged, her skin hot and prickly. It made her beg, shamelessly, and Mako was the only one who could draw that voice from her. He knew just how far to push until her sanity could take no more.

She cried out when Mako decided that he had had enough. He lifted her leg and she curved it around him. He was swift and sudden as he surged into her. Pleasure thrummed up through Korra's stomach and pulsed along the curve of her spine. She opened eyes squeezed shut to meet his. The smouldering heat of his golden gaze left her lips dry and throat tight. He wasn't moving and she was so very aware of it. His lips curved as she panted and glanced down. He asked her a question she remembered from long ago.

"Slow?" he husked.

Korra lifted her arms and looped them around Mako's neck, pulling him close until he was resting against her brow.

"I will kill you if you play with me," she told him.

He kissed her, his mouth ravenous. "Slow wasn't really an option anyway."

The alternative left her in desperate need for air. Korra clung to him for all she was worth as he pushed her up against the wall and drove himself into her.

Something was building up inside of her, refusing to be restrained or tempered. It was powerful, exhilarating and dangerous. And it was overwhelming her. She did not have the strength or presence of mind to keep it in check. Korra gave a sharp cry, clenching her teeth afterwards and screwing her eyes tightly shut. Mako was pressed against her, stimulating every one of her senses in a way that she could never have emulated for herself.

The weight of his body, his flesh hot and slick with sweat; the sound of his voice, raw and animalistic as he grunted; his heady, masculine scent that she drank in with every breath, and the sweet, addictive taste of his mouth. And the way he moved against her, the feeling of his body, of his skin sliding along hers. Being away from him for so long only intensified each and every sensation, each and every movement. And she could not bear it. She felt every one of his thrusts like never before. When Korra threw out an arm to brace herself against the wall, she knew she was in trouble.

She could _feel_ it.

"Mako," she gasped. "Mako, I'm going to tear your apartment in half!"

She wasn't joking. Korra was very much serious. Mako, apparently, did not care.

She felt so hot, so heavy, and at the same time her head felt lighter than a cloud. Korra tilted back her face to the ceiling, chest heaving as she panted. Mako swept low and brought his mouth to the pulse of life at her throat. His pace was relentless, plunging her over the edge. She gripped his hair between her fingers and cried out in wanton delight. At the same time, her eyes were pulled open, and they glowed with ethereal light.

Mako looked up at the sound of rumbling.

* * *

He was drifting on the edge of wakefulness, dimly aware of the orientation of his body and the warmth of morning sunlight. The pillow was soft beneath his head, his hands pushed underneath it. Some part of him, his internal alarm clock, was prodding insistently at his consciousness. It was time to get up, but he didn't want to. He felt warm and comfortable, lazy as a pleasant ache buzzed through his limbs. So he lay still, burrowing down towards the vista of his dreams.

Mako felt the bed sink beneath him, its springs murmuring. Something settled around and over him, a familiar weight. He felt it lean forwards, and then the momentary contact of fingertips upon his skin. The sheet that was drawn up over his back was carefully pulled away, exposing him to the cool air. He sensed pause being given, then the lingering sensation of being watched. He remained unmoved however, breathing slowly. He was not worried.

The weight around him leaned forward and then down this time, accompanied by the whisper of a different kind of movement. Mako couldn't quite place it, but a moment later he felt something soft brush against his skin. _Hair,_ he thought. And after that, he felt lips. They gently kissed the small of his back, lingering after that first touch before moving away. And then he felt them again, a little to the left of that first spot.

Soft breath whispered against his skin in the wake of every kiss, each touch of those lips slow and pleasant. Their progress was thorough, determined it seemed to leave no inch of him wanting. Gentle hands soon rose to explore him, fingers lightly tracing curving lines upon him. He felt her thighs against the side of his body as her lips reached halfway up his back. Mako couldn't help stirring, though he tried to lie still. Her kiss and the playful touch of her fingertips felt good, and her hair brushing along his skin tickled him. He heard her chuckle low in her throat above him. She was enjoying this, and so was he.

Korra kissed all the way up to the back of his neck, shuffling forwards as she left his skin tingling with the sensation of her lips. Her weight felt good too, the pleasant warmth of her body making him feel even lazier. He was smiling now. It was impossible not to. Korra leaned over him, her lips brushing against his ear.

"You awake, baby?" she asked softly.

Mako opened his eyes, blinking against the last vestiges of sleep and the golden light filtering through the window. Her question was a simple enough one to answer; he was awake. At least he thought he was. He hoped he was.

"I'm not sure," he answered quietly. He kept his eyes on the window, not daring to look at her. He wanted to, but he was afraid. This was all too familiar.

The woman above him, in the corner of his vision, moved a hand to his brow and began stroking his hair. "What's wrong?"

"I might still be dreaming," Mako replied. "I've had this dream before, where I wake up and you're with me again. It's a good dream, too good. Everything is right again, the way it should be. But then I really wake up and I'm alone."

He closed his eyes with a soft sigh. "Am I still dreaming, Korra? Are you really here?"

"Look at me," she told him, her voice so soft. "Look at me, Mako."

He didn't move at first. He was afraid, afraid that this dream, which had been more intense and seemed so much more real than any other, was just that; a dream. He could even remember tasting smoke upon her breath. That was new. But it could always have been just another trick of his imagination, his mind sifting through the catalogue of Korra's habits in order to fool him more completely. He did not know what he would do if he woke again to find himself cold and alone. It would be too much to bear this time.

She seemed so _real_. Everything seemed so real.

He turned eventually, because there was no other choice. He shifted beneath her, turning his body and coming face to face with her. Korra neither vanished nor melted away. She leaned over him, her hair a curtain against the sunlight. Her eyes were so blue. He never grew tired of falling into them. They did not waver or blink as she watched him. And then, as she brought her lips down upon his, they slowly fell shut. Mako experienced a jolt of fear, that this would be the cruel moment after which he opened his own eyes and found himself truly awake. But when Korra eventually lifted her head, she remained.

She was still there.

Korra was a warm and very real presence, here with him at long last.

Just to make sure, to do something to stop the sudden welling up of moisture that threatened to swallow his gaze, Mako reached up and drew her down to him again.

"You didn't believe me," she teased him with a soft murmur, leaning into his touch at her cheek.

"You don't know how much I've missed you, Korra," he replied, looking into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I love you, Mako. I do."

He nodded, unable for the moment to speak. Words were choked away by emotion, the pulse of sheer joy that ran though him rendering his tongue thick. Then he glanced down and took note of what she had on. A sense of amusement and pleasant surprise managed to part his lips.

"You're wearing my shirt."

"I'm not wearing much else."

That made him smile.

"I think it looks better on you," he said. "Much better."

That made her smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You should take a look at the walls," Korra said then. "I…I think that will prove my being here." She looked away, awkward and – he didn't dare believe it – embarrassed. Mako lifted a curious eyebrow.

She moved to his side, allowing him to adjust his posture and sit up. Mako then, as instructed, turned his eyes to the walls. He sat very still and silent, observing the jagged lines that had etched themselves into being. The thickest of them ran right over his head, wending its way past the corner of the room and along the wall to his right, supporting a dozen thinner lines along its length that branched off into even smaller cracks themselves. And it looked like this little network did not end with his room alone.

"Well, that wasn't there yesterday," he remarked lightly, turning to face Korra. She was sitting beside him with her knees drawn up to her chest, heat rising to her cheeks. Mako started to smile.

"Might I ask how this happened?" he said, knowing the answer full well.

"Um…" Korra simply pointed at her eyes. And Mako began to laugh. He laughed harder when she shoved him and told him to stop.

"Alright, alright," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. He brushed a tear from his eye. "I guess you did give me fair warning."

"Yes, I did," she replied. She shifted her body and lay down beside him, resting her head against his stomach. "You told me you didn't care."

Mako lifted a hand to play with locks of her hair. "I didn't. And besides, do you know how many points I'll score when this story gets around the office?"

"Ha ha. I'll make sure you don't have an apartment to live in at all if you tell a soul what happened."

Mako chuckled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Do you remember the first time -?"

"I almost ripped apart the men's dormitory, Mako. Of course I remember. Tenzin almost threw his oaths to the wind and flayed you alive."

"That was a good day," he mused, smiling when she hummed as if to say 'oh really' in response. "What does it feel like for you?" he asked her.

Korra frowned slightly as she considered his question. "It's as though I'm coming apart at the seams," she said. "The first time… that was our first time together. I wanted you so badly. All I knew was that I wanted you, and I had to have you right then and there, consequences and Tenzin's rules be damned. Everything, the way it felt, the sensations, they were new to me. Well, perhaps not new, but different. It was powerful and intense, everything I thought it would be and then so much more. And I think the important thing was that I was sharing that moment with you. You were the one making me feel that way, Mako."

"So pleasure is your weakness," he teased.

"Ha. No. Otherwise we would probably have to practice abstinence. Who knows what I might do to you in the throes of passion one day," Korra said. "No, it's more than just pleasure. It's…it's just you, baby. I love you so much. I don't know how you do it, but you make me feel like I want to break, to just give you everything that I am and lose myself in you."

"So last night," he prompted.

She chuckled softly and shook her head. "I can't quite put words to that one yet. There were so many emotions running through me, Mako. It was just…I was finally with you again. I could touch and feel you right there against me after dreaming of you for so long. I couldn't keep myself together. It was like a flood. I couldn't resist it. It felt so good, so strong and intense. I...this'll sound odd, but even though I could feel myself falling apart, I felt so complete."

"For me, it felt like I was on fire," Mako said, resting the back of his head against the wall. "Like my skin was actually burning up. There was this pull on something inside me, like a restraint was being torn away. I've never experienced it like that before."

"Careful," Korra replied, grinning up at him. "Burning down your apartment is a lot harder to fix."

"Says you who almost ripped it apart," Mako returned.

"Well, lucky for everyone involved that you were there to stop me. That would've made for an uncomfortable headline otherwise."

"Hey, I would be the talk of the town if that happened."

"Not if I buried you first."

Mako laughed and Korra smiled crookedly in response.

"So, will you tell me where you've been?" he asked her then, once his laughter had faded.

She gave pause for a moment. "I've spent the last two years in Ba Sing Se, working as a police officer."

That lifted his eyebrow again. "Oh really."

Korra looked up at him. "You don't believe me."

"I do," he told her. "I'm just surprised. Very surprised."

Korra sat up at Mako's words, shifting her body once again and manoeuvring herself so that she straddled him. His hands rose naturally to her hips as she settled into his lap. He looked up at her with a small smirk as she placed her hands against the wall to either side of his head, looming over him.

"You don't believe me," she said again.

Mako gave a small shrug. "It's difficult to imagine."

Korra arched her brow, smiling slightly. "And why's that?"

He glanced away from her then and she followed his eyes. They fell briefly upon his desk.

"Alright," he said, looking up at her with a mischievous light to his eyes, "I'll show you something."

She lowered her arms and shuffled back a little, giving him room to lean over to the desk. Stretching, he reached forwards and grasped the handle of one of the drawers. Korra watched him rummage around blindly until he appeared to settle on what he wanted. His hand emerged with an old pair of handcuffs clutched in its grip. "Huh," she said, all this time completely unaware of their existence.

"You know how these work?" Mako said to her as he settled back against the wall, holding the cuffs up for her inspection. He was smiling more widely now.

"Of course I do," she replied, trying to read the curve of his mouth and figure out what he was thinking. She found out a few moments later.

"Put your hands together."

Korra paused. Mako didn't even try to hide his grin now.

"You aren't serious," she laughed.

"A good officer obeys her superiors."

"I don't think it works like that, Detective."

"What kind of officer were you?" Mako asked.

"Patrol."

He merely flipped the cuffs open. "Hands."

She huffed in response, turning her palms up to face the ceiling and loosely curling her fingers inwards. "I hope you have the key for these in that drawer."

"I haven't seen it in a while, truth be told," he replied, and Korra narrowed her eyes at him as she held out her hands.

Mako made an elaborate show of binding her wrists together, fingertips slowly brushing against her skin. She playfully pulled her lip between her teeth as heat simmered in his eyes. The click of the cuffs as he locked them in place was satisfying in the silence that hung between them. Afterwards, when her hands were bound, Korra lifted them up and over Mako's head. She settled herself comfortably into his lap.

"So, Detective, what will you do with me now?"

He began by lowering his eyes and hands to the buttons of her – or rather his – shirt.

"Officer Korra," he said, testing the name. "It has an interesting ring to it."

"Serra," she corrected him, as he popped open the lowermost button of the shirt.

"Serra?"

"I didn't use my real name while I lived there. I didn't want any attention or to be recognised. I wanted to be just your average citizen."

Mako nodded. "So, Serra?"

"I put together my mother's name and my own," she explained.

He frowned. "Your mother's name…"

"My mother's name is Senna, Mako."

"I know. I knew that. It's been a while, you know? All I needed was a hint."

"Right," Korra said tonelessly.

"Speaking of names," Mako continued, lightly tracing his thumbs back and forth along the curve of her hips, "I've come up with a special one for you."

"What's wrong with the one I already have?"

"It's too long," Mako said mildly.

"It's two syllables. Kor-ra."

"Too long."

"I forgot how lazy you can be sometimes," she said with a smirk.

"Don't you want to know the one I came up with?"

Korra couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "By all means, do tell."

"Kay."

Silence stretched between them.

"Do you like it?"

"Try it," she replied after a moment.

Mako's eyes latched onto hers, his gaze tender.

"I love you, Kay," he said gently, "more than anything else in this world."

Korra leaned down and kissed him, slowly, fondly, and with a pulse of warmth that spread through her body, reaching to her very extremities. She wanted to be nowhere else but here. She wanted to know nothing else but him.

"It'll have to do," she told him with a small smile. And then she brought her hands around his head.

Mako stared long and hard at the opened pair of handcuffs, certain that he had locked them. He looked up and Korra was smiling that wonderful, mischievous smile of hers. He loved it. He had missed it so much. Just like that, she went and flipped the script.

"You didn't break them, did you?"

She shook her head, still smiling. "Nope."

He glanced down at the cuffs again. There was only one other possibility.

"You learned how to metalbend."

"Yep."

Mako felt the surge of pride rising up to fill his chest. "That's my girl," he said softly.

Korra's grin was cocky as she spun the cuffs around a finger. As he watched her, Mako was reminded why he had fallen so hard for this woman in the first place. She was unpredictable. He had become so accustomed to the rigid schedule of his life, to never making a move without thoroughly thinking it through first. She was spontaneous, daring, introducing chaos to his carefully maintained order and pulling him along for the subsequent ride, laughing all the way.

For the first time in a long time, Mako felt like himself again. It was funny how easily she did that to him, how she drew him from the depths of himself. She made him smile and made him laugh; she made him feel bold and impulsive. She taught him how to act on that impulse, to toss forethought aside and simply _act._ Right now, that impulse had him feeling a tightening of his groin.

The shirt had long since been laid open by his hands. Mako's eyes rose and fell with blatant deliberateness, taking in all of her. Korra looked delicious in it, giving him that knowing grin as he traced the path of every last curve with a hungry gaze. And he knew she could feel how much he liked what he saw.

"Kay."

"Hmm?" she said, affecting an innocent tone.

"Put those down."

Korra stretched out her arm, briefly holding the cuffs in the air over the open drawer. Before she dropped them, she directed a sidelong glance at him. The playful curve of her lips tightened the grip of his hands at her waist.

"As you say, Detective."

* * *

The late afternoon was melting into the evening as Korra stepped out of the bedroom, wearing dark sweatpants that were too long for her. The legs were rolled halfway up her shins, and the _pit-pat _of her bare feet was soft upon the floor. She neglected her own vest for Mako's shirt, leaving the uppermost pair of buttons undone.

A delicious smell met her nostrils as she moved into the living room, her eyes turning towards the kitchenette. Her stomach complained appropriately, as she had not eaten a thing for almost two days. Her appetite had fallen victim to her anxiety on the first, and today…well, the reason for that was upon whom her eyes now fell. He was also the reason she was positively ravenous at present.

The spatula in Mako's hand paused when she came up behind him, bringing her arms around his waist. She stood on the tips of her toes and peeked over his shoulder.

"That looks good," Korra said, looking down into the pan. "Can I have some?"

"Only if you've contributed towards making it," Mako replied, "which you haven't."

"Hmm." She pinched the fabric of his vest between her fingers, beginning to slowly tease it upwards. "I can start contributing now, if you like."

"Not in the kitchen," he said sternly, slapping her hand.

Korra laughed. "I'm _starving_, Mako. It's all your fault, too. Besides, you've got more than enough in there."

"You know how much I hate sharing," he replied, stirring the noodles and vegetables around the pan as he turned his head.

"I don't actually," she said, reaching up to meet his lips. "Bowls are in the same place, right?"

"I don't remember moving them," Mako answered as she moved to his side and crouched down in front of the cupboard.

Korra bumped her hip into his as she pulled the door open. "A simple 'yes' will do, smartass."

"I wouldn't recommend harassing the chef, Kay. Unless you plan on going hungry tonight."

She straightened, two bowls clutched in hand as she pushed the cupboard door shut with her leg. Mako responded to her pouting with a raised eyebrow, looking thoroughly unconcerned. He leaned down and accepted her kiss however.

"I'm sorry, baby. It won't happen again."

Mako snorted at the expression of pure innocence she showed him. "I wouldn't bet money on it."

Korra set down the bowls, watching as he served up a few moments later. Taking two forks from the appropriate drawer, she handed him one as he passed her a bowl of noodles. The aroma wafting lazily up from it enticed her all over again, and she couldn't help but pass the bowl underneath her nose, inhaling deeply.

"Wow. Smells good, chef."

"Not all of us share your lack of culinary skills," Mako said with a smirk, walking around her.

"Hey," Korra replied with a tone of affront, "I spent two years living by myself. I learned how to cook."

Mako turned on the radio as he left the kitchenette, filling the room with soft, melodic jazz notes. "Sure," he said.

Korra followed him over to the couch. "I'm serious."

"Well, we can test that theory one day," Mako said, leaning against its armrest as he sat down. "I'll buy new pots and pans in advance."

"You're a terrible person," Korra said plainly, settling down beside him. She sat with her back resting against his body, her legs propped up on the opposite armrest. She gave a lengthy hum as she tucked into the food, eyes falling shut as its wholesome flavour tingled across her tongue. "Looks like you haven't lost your touch," she told him, noodles looped around her fork.

"I'm glad you think so," Mako replied. "I hope you remember how to wash up."

Korra's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Wait, what?"

"I cooked."

"Are you serious? I just got back!"

"I'm feeding you, letting you stay in my apartment, and you're walking around in my clothes."

"I remember you saying they looked better on me anyway."

Mako glanced down at her. With the way she was sitting and the fact that the top two buttons of the shirt were undone…

"Be that as it may, it's not like I'm asking you to do a lot."

"Ugh."

"And speaking of my apartment," Mako continued, "you really did a number on the place."

Korra immediately felt heat rising to her cheeks at his words. She was facing towards the front door, from her position able to see the point where the many cracks running along the wall originated from. She could distinguish the marks her fingernails had gouged into it too.

"Um, sorry about that," Korra said timidly. "Though…it was kind of your fault."

She could practically hear his eyes roll. "Right. I'll just add that to my list, shall I?"

"By all means."

Mako chuckled quietly. "Can you fix it?" he asked.

"I can give it a look," Korra said after a moment's thought. "Something like this isn't my area of expertise though, and I'd rather not pull down your whole building."

"Hmm. I'd rather you didn't too. Maybe we should leave it the way it is, as a memento."

Korra turned her head to look around at him. "A memento."

She felt Mako shrug. "Sure. Why not?"

"And what happens when someone comes around to visit?"

"Well, then I have this really interesting story to tell…"

"You know what? I think I can fix it."

"That's great news, Kay."

"Whatever," she huffed, swinging her legs around and planting her feet on the floor. "Finished?"

Mako glanced down as she indicated his bowl. "Yeah. Getting right to it?" he continued when she took it from him and stood up.

"Yes, I am. Not another word," she cut across him when he opened his mouth. Mako closed it again and gave a small half-smile. Korra walked around the couch, heading back towards the kitchenette. He turned his head and watched her go, until her form was obscured behind the wall. His smile began to fade when he turned his eyes down again.

Mako moved his thumb back and forth along the surface of the armrest. He could feel it stirring in his gut, this cold and unpleasant sensation that emerged halfway through the day as he lay with Korra in his arms. And now, as he sat on the couch, he could not help but remember that night. He closed his eyes and grimaced against the memory that sprang up before him. The edges were hazy thanks to his then inebriated state, but he could see it clearly enough. And it remained there, even when he willed it away.

He had been unfaithful. He had been impatient. He had been weak.

But had he really?

Korra was his whole life; from the first day that he had met her, she rewrote everything about it. But then she left him. She left and took a piece of him with her, tearing it straight from his chest. The wound bled for days and months and years. It was raw, stinging with every touch and every breath. It was such pain that he had never known, and in the end one he could no longer bear. She had hurt him. He hurt so much and only she could heal him. He saw that now. Asami had opened his eyes to that truth.

_"Let's say we try this again, Mako, and Korra shows up at your door tomorrow. What then? What would you do?"_

He would take her back, that's what he would do. That was what he had done, because truthfully it was never a question at all. And now they were both pretending that nothing had happened. They were both pretending nothing had changed.

Korra left him. She walked right out of his life. But here he was, letting her walk right back in. Why did she have it so easy after what she had done to him, after what she had put him through? Why should he be the one battling with guilt when _she _had cut the throat of their relationship? He clung to that thought, to all of them. Angrily, he pushed his guilt away, to the side and out of sight. He was not going to pretend anymore.

"Mako?"

He looked up, turning his head. Korra was standing beside him, drying her hands with a tea towel. He hadn't heard her approach him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, seeing tightness in his expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I'm fine. I was just thinking."

Korra sat down on the arm of the couch, draping the tea towel over her shoulder. "What about? You don't seem too happy all of a sudden."

He did not answer her right away. She moved her arm and curved it around his shoulders, but Mako leaned forward away from her. Korra bit into her lip as she watched him. His hands were clasped together between his legs, his form hunched and shoulders tense.

"Mako, what's wrong?" she tried.

"When are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

He slowly stood to his feet and turned to face her, arms folded and jaw tight. _Oh no, _she thought.

"You realise how long you've been gone, don't you? It's been almost three years, Korra. There are so many rumours flying around as to why you left, but no one seems to know the actual truth. So I'm wondering when you're going to tell me. Or do I still not deserve to know."

"Mako," she said carefully, swallowing before she spoke again. "I…it doesn't matter now."

He stared at her incredulously for a long moment. "It doesn't matter? I would love for you to go and tell that to Bolin."

His voice was fierce and she was confused.

"Bolin? What's happened to him?"

"What's happened? For all intents and purposes, _you _put him in hospital."

Korra found her feet at the look on Mako's face. His eyes were hard as he glared at her, burning with an altogether different heat. She dropped the tea towel onto the armrest and approached him, but he moved away, walking around the couch. Her hand paused, lifted halfway into the air.

"Mako, I don't understand," she said earnestly, seeing the agitation in his movements. He turned sharply at her words, anger written into his features.

"Do you remember when you told me you planned on giving Zolt his bending, and I pleaded with you not to? Do you remember when you as good as told me you'd done it?" he demanded. "I told you nothing good would come of it. I told you what he would do. But you didn't listen to me. You _never _listen to me, Korra. You always do what you damn well please and shut me out afterwards, and then your answer to everything is that you're the bloody _Avatar _–"

"Mako, please," she begged, standing in front of him now. Her voice was choked and so was his. He pressed his eyes tightly shut when she lifted her hands to his face, a single drop of moisture escaping them. "I'm sorry, for the things I know I've done and for the things I don't. I'm so sorry."

He clenched his teeth, turning his face away from her hands. "How can you just apologise and think…"

Mako stepped away from her, shaking his head. Her heart was heavy with pain as her arms fell away. It hurt to be pushed away like this, and Korra knew that she no right to complain. So often had she stood where he did now. She couldn't reach out to the man she loved, and it was as though a leaden weight was pushing against her chest from all sides. She had expected this, deep down in her heart. She had prepared for it. And from the very moment that she stepped into his apartment, Korra hoped and prayed that she would not have to face it.

"Mako," she said softly, as he turned around and gave her his back, "please tell me what happened to Bolin."

"The Triple Threats happened," he answered tonelessly.

"Is…is he alright?" she asked when Mako said no more. He rounded on her no sooner had she spoken. She almost winced at the sharpness of his voice.

"He's in hospital with a broken arm and leg. You tell me if he's alright, Korra."

"I…" she looked away, searching for courage upon the air she breathed.

"So that's it then," he said, "you have nothing to say. After what you did, after you just walked away and _left me_, you're going to stand there now and expect me to accept that. I'm supposed to pretend that the last three years didn't happen for your convenience."

Korra lifted her eyes to his, taking a steadying breath. She had promised herself that she would hide nothing from him, no matter what it might cost her.

"No. I'll tell you, Mako, everything," she said. "You deserve to know."

And then, tentatively taking his hands, Korra led him back over to the couch.

* * *

**A/N: The vision for this reunion has been playing over and again in my head for the last three or so months. It's been as much of a difficult wait for me as it has for you guys. So, was it worth it?**

**It's almost difficult to believe that I've actually reached this far with the story. As these things tend to do, it has evolved and expanded beyond my original batch of ideas. Thank you all for experiencing that ride along with me. As always, your thoughts and feedback are very much welcome. I'd love to know how you feel about the story, its characters and events. **

**Lastly, now that I've come to this point, I'm going to be taking a break from this story for a while. While I have everything planned out, there's still a lot of details that need fine tuning, and honestly my mind is refusing to connect the dots right now. But at least I didn't leave you all hanging on the previous chapter, right?**

**Till next time!**


	26. Chapter 26

Mako had once wished that she would never accustom herself to rising with the morning sun, and Korra had once sincerely declared the breaking of a new day to be _evil._ But, thanks to her two-yearlong occupation as a police officer, Korra had learned to rise with the sun, even if she did not want to. Her body was quick to adapt to the habit, almost as though her inner alarm clock relished the opportunity. So it was that she blinked awake early, as she had done the day before. Korra lay still in her wakefulness as the golden light spilled through the bedroom window, warmth upon its rays. She settled into the sun's embrace, for the one in which she had fallen to sleep was gone.

Mako had curved his form around hers as they got into bed, his arm moving to her waist. She felt his chest against her back, the warmth of his flesh upon her own. Korra entwined her fingers gently with his atop her stomach. He had fallen to sleep before she did. She lay awake for a short time listening to him breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall. She could feel nothing of him now.

Carefully so as not to disturb him, Korra turned and sat up in the bed. She clutched her portion of the quilt at her chest as her eyes fell upon Mako's back. He had turned away from her at some point during the night. He lay facing the opposite wall, hands tucked beside his head. Korra sighed softly. She pushed her hair out of the way behind her ear and leaned forward, lightly touching her lips to his brow. Afterwards, she quietly got out of bed, arranging the quilt comfortably around his form. The likelihood that he was already awake did not escape her, but Korra did not wish to rouse him in case he was not.

She stood in the kitchenette several minutes later, making a pot of coffee. Korra folded her arms while she waited, leaning back against the counter. Absentmindedly, she lifted a foot to tend to an itch at the back of her calf, the floor cool against her bare sole when she lowered it again. The strong, bracing aroma of the coffee beans gradually began to permeate the air around her, sweeping away the lingering cobwebs of her slumber. She poured herself a steaming cupful, turning to pull open the fridge in search of milk.

The warmth of the mug seeping through into her palms, Korra took her coffee and walked over to the couch. She quietly lowered herself down onto it, taking a sip of the beverage. Its strong flavour washed pleasantly over her tongue, providing a jolt of wakefulness on the spot. Folding her legs underneath her afterwards, Korra tilted back her head until she felt the soft rest of the couch against it. Her thoughts melted away as she let her eyelids fall, no longer dwelling in the present.

_"I tried to kill him."_

_Mako looked at her, with eyes that were narrow and searching. Korra released a soft, weary sigh, dropping her gaze to their hands. She still had his held within hers, slowly and unconsciously stroking her thumb along his skin. He spoke into the silence of her hesitation, for the first time since she had begun speaking to tell him of what transpired when she left him behind that night._

_"Tell me."_

_His voice was brittle, his tone caught halfway between demanding and encouraging. Korra looked up, seeing a downturned mouth with lips drawn tight and thin. His eyes were hard and unyielding upon her. Some small part of her shrank away beneath that look, shamed beyond all reasonable doubt. So too did the cold spectre of guilt awaken at the depths of her being. Her skin prickled uncomfortably; he was judging her, she thought, judging her before she even tried to explain herself. Korra riled up at the thought, her own lips tightening._

_"I found him right where Zolt told me he would be. There was a private club underneath the saloon. I fought my way in. I put down whoever stood in my way as I looked for him. Zolt's men, they were bought out it seemed, but they couldn't stop me. I found him. He was in a private room, just him and a girl." Korra felt a soft ache pulse through her jaw as she gave a moment's pause. "She was Water Tribe."_

_Mako did not speak, and by his expression she knew he was waiting for her to continue. She couldn't immediately though, unable to quell the flow of images that sprang up before her mind's eye to remind her of that night. She saw the frightened young woman pressing herself against the wall, a loop of leather with unmistakeable purpose fastened around her neck. She saw everything that Li Hong had envisioned for the girl with terrible clarity. It made her stomach roil._

_"All I intended to do was take away his bending. I was going to purge him clean of it, because I thought that was the root of the problem. That was what fuelled all his actions. I was wrong though, and I saw the truth when I opened my eyes to it. I looked deep inside him and found it." Korra grimaced unconsciously before speaking again, recalling how vile the thoughts she witnessed had been. "The people of the Water Tribe were hardly better than vermin to him. We were of no value, no worth, and to his mind we were there for the taking."_

_"And that was what he did," she said meeting Mako's gaze, "he took, and took, and took. I saw it all. I saw everything. I knew his thoughts for the girl that had been alone with him. He was hateful, vile and disgusting, Mako, and something within me refused to tolerate him any longer, even after I took his bending. I knew it would not mean the end of it, that firebending was just a tool to him, one he could replace. He would find ways to continue taking advantage of and abusing people of the Water Tribe. That was what defined that man, not his bending. So I decided that I had to take more from him."_

_Korra released a breath weighted with burden before she spoke the words. "I tried to kill him."_

_And Mako's hands slipped away from hers._

She turned her head upon hearing the creaking of the bed's springs, followed shortly afterwards by the rhythm of footsteps. It was several minutes before they led him into the living room. Korra knew that they would first have taken him to the bathroom. She peered over the back of the couch to see him politely stifle a yawn with the back of his hand. His hair was ruffled and matted down, a thick, dark tangle that called with an irresistible voice for the attention of her fingers. She did like to comb them through it, enjoying the texture against her skin. When the mood took her, she would tighten their grip and pull him down onto her lips.

"Morning," Korra greeted softly from her seat.

"Hey," Mako returned, his voice quiet as he walked over to the kitchenette.

"I made coffee," she said.

"I could smell it," he replied, before disappearing from her eyes. There was a small stretch of silence between them, and she listened to him setting a mug down on the counter before pouring himself the beverage. "It's good," he said a few moments later, reappearing from behind the wall that blocked her view of the kitchenette. Korra smiled small but warmly.

Standing halfway between the kitchenette and the couch, Mako took a long draw of his coffee. Korra took a slower, smaller sip of her own, noting that it had cooled considerably while she sat there thinking. When Mako lowered his mug, he looked down into the contents before he spoke, moving his hand in a gentle circular motion.

"I have a few papers that need sorting before I get ready to go. At least I can say I have it done when I get chewed out for not showing up yesterday."

"I…sorry about that," Korra said carefully. With the way he would not meet her eyes, it felt like Mako was blaming her. He shrugged wordlessly before bringing the mug of coffee to his mouth.

"I'm going to go over to Air Temple Island today," she continued. "Re-introduce myself to Tenzin. No doubt he'll have lectures prepared for me."

Mako arched his brow when he lowered his mug. "I thought you had already."

She shook her head. "I had to come here first. You're the only one who knows I'm back."

"Oh," Mako said after a long moment, looking down to contemplate the last dregs of his coffee. Then he looked up at her. "I appreciate that, Korra."

She smiled naturally, before she could even think to hide it. It took a moment, but Mako's lips eventually developed a small curve in response.

* * *

Jinora was aware of very little around her when she slipped deep into meditation. All she knew for sure was the darkness beneath her eyelids and the tranquil silence that accompanied it. She was not aware of the orientation of her body, though she remembered having sat cross-legged with her fists touching above her lap opposite her father, and that they were alone beneath the domed roof of the pavilion.

This circumstance was not unfamiliar to her, for in recent years Jinora's progression in both airbending and the maturing of her spirituality had proved exponential. She left behind her siblings in the blink of an eye and was soon catching glimpses of mastery upon the horizon. It was both an exciting and daunting prospect, the day her father announced that he would take to tutoring her personally away from her brothers and sister. She could hear the pride that filled his voice and brightened his fond gaze. But at the same time Jinora could feel the weight of expectation upon her young shoulders, and there was a sense of anticipation upon the Island whole that left the air around her persistently charged.

It would not be long now before she earned the right to wear the signature tattoos of the Air Nomads.

Her brow wrinkled as she thought to hear a soft _pit-pat,_ as though droplets of water were returning to the pool of her mind. Her skin smoothed as she relaxed once more into her state of meditation, embracing and plunging into the depths of the darkness that seemed to encompass her. Jinora had always thought it strange that she preferred this to the imagery of the 'sanctuary' her father had encouraged them to create for themselves.

There was something so oddly poignant but peaceful about utter darkness, a state of nothingness within which she felt so free and light. There was no distraction here, no bright lights or loud noises to divide her attention. Here, she had studied herself and her many thoughts. Here, she experienced something unique. It was not as though she drifted aimlessly, but almost as though her very form split apart into a million tiny dots of light, a myriad of points of existence upon which she could sense _something._ It was so much greater than herself, a state of being within which she could taste a newfound sense of peace and spirituality. Jinora knew that when the day came for her to touch it, it would be unlike anything she had yet to experience.

She did not know the passage of time, nor her own hunger or thirst when she dwelt in this meditative state. However, Jinora's ears did perk up upon hearing her father's voice, though it seemed to drift towards her from a point miles and miles away.

_"…Hello…Korra…"_

Korra?

Jinora pulled back, reeling in herself as she fought to break the surface of her consciousness. Did she hear her father's voice correctly? Was she dreaming?

"Korra?" her lips vocalised numbly, her eyes opening blearily as though she awoke from slumber. After the initial and familiar haziness of her vision, her father came into focus directly opposite her. His posture mirrored her own, voluminous, rich orange robes flowing over his thighs and knees to pool around him. But Jinora felt a presence close by at her side, and it was to that which her eyes eagerly turned. They widened and shone like stars in the next moment.

"_Korra!"_

It was her, unmistakeably. Her smile was crooked and her bright blue eyes reminded Jinora so profoundly of the ocean. She sat similarly cross-legged beside her, sporting her familiar blue, long-sleeved vest. Her arms beneath the light fabric were characteristically thick with muscle, Korra's shoulders broad and strong. The long tail of her dark brown locks sat high at the back of her head, her hair drawn tidily away from her face to enrich the vibrancy of her gaze. Jinora knew she did not do it intentionally, but nevertheless that was the effect it had. Without another moment of delay, she threw herself forward into Korra's embrace.

"Woah, careful there!" the young woman's chuckling voice spoke from above her head, her arms curving around Jinora's back. "I didn't think you'd be this happy to see me."

"Of course I am!" she practically squealed in reply, squeezing her friend tight.

"Argh! My ribs! Tenzin, help me. Your daughter's lost the plot."

Jinora heard her father's low chuckle as she squeezed Korra harder in retaliation. She had missed her so much. She didn't realise how much until she had her here in her embrace. There was an immeasurable swell of happiness in her chest to hear her voice again after so long.

"I give, Jin. You win!"

Korra laughed as the girl finally released her. She put her hands to her shoulders and held her at arms' length. Her little sister was no longer so little, she realised. She favoured wearing her hair in a simple yet elegant bun now, the steady gleam of intelligence in her eyes matured as she stood on the cusp of adulthood.

"Well, look at you," Korra said softly, her smile brimming with warmth.

"Oh stop," Jinora replied with a roll of her powerfully expressive eyes, "I get this from my parents almost every other day now."

"And I completely understand why," Korra said, dropping her gaze a fraction. "You've grown, Jin."

She belted out her laughter when Jinora blushed profusely and crossed her arms tightly over her chest, giving her a sharp look as if to say "my father is _right there!_" Korra gave a playful wink in return, before turning her eyes to the man himself. Tenzin bore the expression of a man patiently waiting to be the subject of her attention, a soft smile visible beneath his greying beard.

"It is good to have you back, Korra."

The response she gave was automatic. "It's good to be back."

But it didn't quite feel like it, not yet, and if Tenzin recognised the subtle uncertainty in her tone he gave no suggestion of it. Her eyes dropped, away from his, before she could think to catch herself.

_"You tried. But you couldn't."_

_Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth and she couldn't quite read the look in his eyes. Korra slowly withdrew her hands to herself, for a pang had struck her heart when he drew his away from her. And it hurt. She thought she could hear disappointment in his voice, perhaps even disgust. She feared his rejection. But even then, something hot and prickly bubbled up from within her. She spoke then in answer to the underlying meaning in his tone._

_"No. The only reason I didn't kill him was because I was stopped. The police, they came out of nowhere. Lin was with them," Korra said, thinking back to that night, remembering how wrapped up she had been in her wrath. "I didn't even know she was back in the city, let alone how they managed to find the club."_

_"It doesn't matter," Mako said. "They stopped you from doing something you would have regretted. That's what matters." _

_Her mouth tightened into a thin line at his words. "I don't regret what I did."_

_"You were going to kill someone, Korra. You were going to commit murder."_

_"I was protecting the people he preyed upon," she returned with a voice as hard as stone. "No one else would. No one else cared enough to stick their neck out, so I did. I –"_

_"Don't tell me it was because you're the damn Avatar," Mako cut across her harshly, but then his tone softened when he next spoke. "You're not a murderer, no matter what else you are."_

_When she opened her mouth to speak, words failed to rise to her lips. She stood to her feet suddenly, tightly folding her arms and turning her back to the couch._

"Korra?"

She gave a small start, her head jerking upwards. Tenzin had been calling for her attention, and when she glanced down at Jinora, the girl favoured her with a curious expression. Korra smiled reassuringly and turned back to the Councilman.

"I'm sorry. I've had a lot on my mind lately," she told him.

Tenzin nodded before turning to his daughter. "We will have to conclude this session at a later time. I would like to speak to Korra privately for a few moments."

"Off to business as usual already, father?" Jinora ventured as she rose to her feet. "Korra just got back. Didn't you?"

"Essentially."

"My father's motto is 'all work, no play'," Jinora said lightly, straightening her robes. "Ever, apparently."

Korra could not help but smirk at the tired sigh Tenzin expelled. "You know full well that isn't the case."

"So he says," Jinora replied, returning Korra's smile. "I think I might wait a while before letting everyone know you're back. This conversation you're about to have won't be private for long otherwise."

"I don't doubt it," Korra laughed softly. And with that, the girl whose womanhood was almost upon her turned to leave the pavilion, her footsteps light upon the wooden steps leading up to it. But only a few moments later, Jinora's voice snagged Korra's attention once more, calling up to the pavilion with a question that clenched her heart.

"Did you bring Naga to the pens already, Korra?"

It was a long moment before she turned to look over her shoulder, and when she did her smile was tight.

"No, I didn't bring her with me this time," she called back, her chest tight. "I left her with my parents."

Jinora's shoulders fell a little as she gave a disappointed pout. "I miss that girl, terrible breath and all."

Korra forced out her laughter. Jinora waved up at her afterwards, turning away and soon disappearing beyond her sight. Tenzin was regarding her carefully when she turned around to face him. She knew the perceptiveness of his eyes, but she met them without hesitance. To do otherwise would only give him a stronger impression of concern.

"Is everything alright?" he asked predictably, and Korra nodded, answering with a firm "Yes, I'm fine, Tenzin."

He held his peace for a moment longer before breaking the silence that stretched between them.

"I admit, it was quite the surprise to have news of your return show up at my doorstep last night," the man said. "For a time, I almost swore I was dreaming."

"You didn't expect me to come back at all?" Korra said, studying Tenzin's face and silently remarking upon the unfamiliar lines that had stitched themselves upon his visage. The seniority of the Councilman was evident now more than ever.

"It was less an expectation and more a hope," he answered her somewhat solemnly. "Truthfully, I did not expect you to be able to stay away for long, Korra. You had built yourself a life here. But the weeks and months slipped by and slowly I began to wonder if you really had made it your intention never to return."

"I couldn't do that," Korra said quietly. "I took Lin's last words to me to heart; I went out a learned a little about the world and myself. But I had to come back. Like you said, I have a life here. I couldn't stay away forever."

"It took you some time," Tenzin spoke gently.

She looked down at her hands. Korra could hear no disapproval or disappointment in the man's voice, only the soft and subtle tone of encouragement that he would often use with her once it became clear how well it worked. And she knew very well what he was doing when she heard it, teasing out the truth of her thoughts. Yet she allowed herself to be swayed by it; the idea that the man would not judge her no matter what she said was a precious comfort. And it had been so long since she confided in him.

"I was afraid, Tenzin. I was so torn. I didn't know what I would find when I returned, but I was too scared of the possibilities to make that step." Korra took a deep, steadying breath. "But now that I'm here, I'm beginning to understand just how many people I might have hurt, personally and by extension with the things I did."

He did not speak and he did not blink, but Tenzin's eyes dimmed enough for her to experience that chilling sense of dread. Korra heard again the voice of the man she so loved and whose heart she had wounded, his anger and sorrow and hurt painful burdens at her breast. When she spoke, he was at the forefront of her mind. But her voice was resolute, because she knew that there were so many things she needed to put right. The only question was the extent of the damage.

"How bad is it, Tenzin?" she asked quietly.

The Councilman rose to his feet a few moments afterwards. "Walk with me, Korra."

Pressing her lips thin, she accepted the hand he offered to her.

* * *

_"Lin and about half a dozen metalbenders I think, that's what it took to subdue me," she said, speaking towards the wall. "I was trying to get back to him the whole time, trying to finish what I'd started, but they wouldn't let me. Lin wouldn't let me."_

_"What happened after they arrested you, Korra?"_

_"They took me in. Lin threw a coat over my head so no one could tell it was really me. The only thing I knew was that I was being dragged into the back of a police van and then dragged out of it again. Then I found myself in an interrogation room, and not long after that Lin graced me with her presence. Dropped a folder on the table and showed me all the charges that would be filed against me. We fought afterwards, with words this time. In the end she won. I had to leave Republic City."_

_"Why? Anyone else in your position would have seen jail, not exile."_

_"Because of who I am," she replied, turning around, "and the threat I would have faced if I stayed."_

_"Threat?"_

_"Lin said that the man's father would seek retribution against me, and according to her he had more than enough power and influence to get it, despite my title."_

_"Despite your title," Mako repeated._

_"I…" Korra's voice fell away as she registered his tone, but then she swallowed and continued on. "Lin's reasoning was that I couldn't afford to be tied down by the politics of Li Hong's father seeking a case against me. As the Avatar, I had to be free to answer whatever call was required of me. So I needed to leave the city until things cooled down."_

_"So you left, just like that," Mako said tightly. "You didn't even try to contest Lin."_

_"Mako, I had to."_

_He rose to his feet and suddenly there was hardly any distance between them at all._

_"Don't give me that, Korra. Don't you dare," he told her, his gaze dark and narrow. "You had a choice and you chose to run away the first chance you got." _

_Just like back then, when they stood face to face and he had uttered those words to her, Korra grew fierce, her eyes hardening. But Mako trampled right over her attempt to speak._

_"Just like always, you didn't want to face up to the consequences of your actions and you used your title as the perfect excuse not to. You're the Avatar, so we can't judge you. You're the Avatar, so you can do whatever the hell you want and someone else will get the blame when you screw up. You're the Avatar, so nothing anyone else says matters."_

_"You're putting words into my mouth," Korra said, speaking without thinking, and really only desperate to say something in defence of herself. Because Mako was taking her apart and throwing the truth straight into her face; she couldn't ignore it and lie to herself any longer._

_"The hell I am," Mako said roughly. "I'm telling you exactly what I watched you do for years, Korra. I stood by you the whole way through. I did my best to support you in everything you faced, even when you took my advice and threw it in the dirt; even when you slammed the door shut in my face and refused to acknowledge that I existed. I was always there for you, no matter what. But that night, you took everything we had built together, everything we worked for, and you threw it all away. You didn't care about anyone but yourself."_

_His words struck hard the gong of finality, and silence reverberated powerfully in the wake of them. Motionless, speechless, Korra could only watch as he turned and walked away from her._

* * *

The receptionist kept flicking curious, lingering glances at her as she stood at Mako's shoulder. In between them, the man checked through a series of records laid out in front of him. Mako had been informed that his brother was soon to be moved from his present room, but the exact day or time was unknown to him. He was checking with the receptionist first before taking her along to the usual ward he was very much used to visiting by now.

Korra was nervous and she couldn't quite pinpoint the source of it. The tension between her and Mako was tightly wound, like a coil that threatened to burst apart at any given moment. She could not ignore it, not when she felt it in every exchange they made, verbal and otherwise. And she had only been with him for the last ten minutes, the two having arranged before going their separate ways that morning to meet at the hospital. Korra had asked him not if he would accompany her to visit Bolin, but if he would agree to the idea of letting her see him at all. He did, eventually, but first he asked her why.

It was such a small thing, but it spoke volumes to her. Mako did not smile at her otherwise peculiar askance and his tone was not soft or humoured; instead it was sharp and protective. "I just want to know that he's alright for myself, Mako," she had replied. Korra did not even want to consider the notion that he felt he had to protect his brother from her. It was like she had suffered a physical blow to her gut, left breathless and confused. She silently reeled in the wake of that one question, and on her way over to the hospital Korra began to wonder what kind of reaction she might receive from Bolin himself.

They had always been friends, always carefree and at ease with one another; she grew to love him as the brother she never had. But he was here the entire time she had been away, watching how each day of her absence hurt Mako just a little bit more. What had Bolin said to help him cope, to give him the strength to want to see another day? What did he think of her now, after she had just appeared to abandon his brother? What would he say when he saw her again?

Korra hated fretting with a passion, but that was what she was doing now, fretting over whether or not she actually ought to show Bolin her face. Let Mako tell him she was back. Let her not have to see the glower Bolin would no doubt wear when he saw her. Let her not have to hear him say that she deserved his brother no longer. She knew she wasn't being rational, jumping to such conclusions. Her fingers suddenly ached for a cigarette to be comfortably settled between them, anything to calm her down right now. Korra pushed aside the impulse however. Avatar or no, she would not get away with that in a hospital.

"So he shouldn't need to be moved again before he's ready to be discharged," Mako was saying.

The receptionist nodded. "That's right."

"Okay, thanks."

Mako glanced across at her before turning away, but before Korra could move to follow him, the receptionist spoke up. She knew the words that would be on his lips; he had been glancing at her too frequently.

"Excuse me, but are you Av -?"

He caught himself when she surreptitiously pressed her finger to her own. "Just let me have today," she asked of him afterwards.

The man stared at her for a long moment before nodding, a little uncertainly. Korra could not be sure if anyone else in the reception area had caught the exchange, or if there were any other perceptive pair of eyes upon her. She wished she had let down her hair from her signature style before coming back into the city. But there wasn't anything to be done of it now. She could only hope that no one else would immediately recognise her, but to expect it would have been unrealistic. She turned and Mako, who had paused to watch and wait for her, favoured her with a brief look before leading the way once more.

Each step that brought her closer to Bolin felt like a journey, an arduous effort as a part of her still wished to turn back and flee. Korra kept her eyes on Mako's back however, the tails of his coat lifted into the air by the pace of his stride. She imagined that he drew her along, a thread wound around her wrist and stretching to his failing to break when either of them thought to tug at it. It was not long before they turned a corner onto another ward, which Mako swiftly identified as the one they were looking for. A quick askance of a passing nurse to clarify the instructions they had been following led them to the room in question.

Korra stood back, looking at the half open, sterile white door apprehensively. Mako moved forwards without hesitation, slowly pushing the door open as he looked inside. The first sight of the room she was granted, peering around him, was of a form lying almost swaddled beneath pale blue bedsheets, a small brown cabinet at the left hand side of the bed. However, Mako turned his gaze away to the right, looking towards the other occupant of the room. Korra's line of sight was blocked both by him and the door, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke.

"Hey, Bo."

"Mako," and Korra could hear the relief and surprise in his voice, "I wasn't sure if you'd find out where they moved me to."

"'Course I would," Mako replied, his tone light but respectfully quiet of the sleeping man as he moved into the room. "Anyway, I've brought along someone who wants to see you."

"Oh?" And now Korra could hear the smile in Bolin's voice. "Not often you treat me to a surprise, bro."

Mako simply hummed in response, and then he turned to her. Their eyes met as he held the door open, inviting her inside. He presented to her for the last time the option to turn away. She stood a little straighter and walked past him.

Bolin's expectant smile faltered when he saw her. Something within her clenched when she saw him, her eyes falling to the thick, stiff casts that encased his limbs. The healer within her immediately leapt to the fore upon the wings of concern, but she held herself back, acutely aware of Mako standing just behind her shoulder. Bolin seemed to look her up and down as though disbelieving her existence in front of him. She saw his throat pulse in an effort to produce words.

"Korra?" he said eventually, uncertainly.

"Long time no see," she replied, lamely.

"I'll say…" he murmured.

Korra began to feel increasingly uncomfortable as she stood between the brothers and silence fell thickly around them. At least until Bolin's expression shifted and she found herself fixed with a puzzled look.

"Hey, why are you still over there? You can't expect me to come to you in this condition," he finished, gesturing nonchalantly at his body, lying propped up on the bed with pillows at his back.

Korra did not dare to breathe for a long moment, certain that she had misinterpreted his tone. But his eyes, bright and round, were beckoning her forward. And then her feet were moving before she had properly comprehended the idea.

Tentatively, she approached his bedside – and almost yelped when Bolin's thick, uninjured arm pulled her into his embrace. He squeezed her tight, just like he had back in the Fire Ferret's changing room all those years ago. Tighter even, though he used just one arm. Korra didn't understand it, but she did not complain. She couldn't anyway, even if she had wanted to, breathless as she looped her own arms behind Bolin's neck and hugged him back as hard as she dared, an untold measure of relief flooding through her.

"Alright, kids, don't kill each other."

Bolin laughed at his brother's words and he and Korra released each other a moment later. Her eyes were prickly as she rose away. She had forgotten Bolin's capacity for forgiveness, his ability to accept and move on, to put the past behind him. It was an enviable trait; he understood some quality of human nature that often escaped Korra. She was sorely apologetic that she had once mistaken him for being young, naïve and too gentle for his own good. It was far from the case.

"How are you?" she asked quietly as Mako drew a pair of chairs up to Bolin's bedside.

"Well, I'm alive. That's good, right?"

Korra couldn't help but return his smile.

"I can't wait to get out," Bolin sighed in exasperated fashion. "Doctor says I should be good to go not too long from now. Though I will miss the cute nurses."

"You've been hitting on your nurses?"

He looked at her with an arched eyebrow. Korra laughed despite herself.

"Right, right. I really shouldn't be surprised by that, should I?"

Bolin grinned. "There's this one, Eska's her name, I think."

"You think?"

He waved his hand at her. "It's difficult to remember a long list of names when you're on the drip." Korra smirked as he continued. "Anyway, yeah, this Eska, she's definitely something. Eyes like a movie star. Gets me a little hot under the collar, if you know what I'm saying."

"Sweet Spirits," Mako murmured at her side, and she glanced across to see him rubbing at his temples. His lips were curved with a half-laugh, half smile, and the corners of Korra's mouth lifted in response.

"Eska's a traditional Water Tribe name," she said to Bolin. "I have a cousin called that, actually."

"Oh. Well, I should like to meet her someday," he replied with a suggestive smile that gave her the urge to roll her eyes.

"I think we'll keep her away from you for a while yet," Korra said, smiling sweetly. "If I add the years up right, she will have just turned sixteen."

Bolin blanched. "Ah. Right. Nevermind that then…"

Their conversation spun the length of close to two hours afterwards, mostly held between Korra and Bolin. His brother, for the most part, remained silent. It was impossible to avoid the passing of the last three years entirely, so instead they were all careful with their exchanges as though having signed an unspoken agreement.

When inevitably asked about her absence, Korra told Bolin that she had gone home to the South Pole, that she had spent the time with her parents and with assisting her former tutor Katara. He asked her question after question, everything except the _why_ of her sudden leaving Republic City. Korra answered honestly enough. She was very aware of Mako at her side, quiet with an expression that was neither here nor there, as she filled the duration of three years with the events of six or so months. She did not tell Bolin about Ba Sing Se; Korra had barely told Mako about her time there either.

In return, when she asked after Bolin's last three years, he told her of his enrolling in the metalbending academy, of discovering his affinity for the element and practically flying through the courses faster than anyone before him in the last twenty years. Korra's amazement and happiness for him was very much sincere as he laid this out before her, and then again when he told her of being employed by Asami and positioned as head of her latest project. All the while, she avoided asking what had led to him being hospitalised, and Bolin did not once mention it himself. There was a mutual awareness and assumption of Mako between them; Bolin was sure that he really knew why Korra had left the city, and that she knew exactly what had put him in hospital. He could see what was unspoken in her eyes when she looked at him.

Mako's mood, though veiled, cast a glum weight over them as their threads of conversation began to dry up. Korra did not feel at any point truly comfortable as she sat beside him. There was a certain tightness to her shoulders and spine, tension trembling at the edge of her voice when she uttered a half-truth to his brother. She did not need to look at him to know that he disliked that, but he said nothing to correct her where he knew differently. He understood that he should not even have been privy to the things Korra had told him. She knew that there were some secrets that she should have kept to herself. But she had no choice but to tell him. He deserved that of her.

When they rose to leave and Mako had clasped his brother's good arm long and firmly before turning for the door, Korra remained behind. She wanted to say something more to Bolin; she knew she ought to, but the words were unknown to her. He looked up at her, mouth pressed shut as thick eyebrows were drawn closer together by a slight frown. Then he sighed.

"I won't lie to you, Korra," he began quietly. "Certain doubts and thoughts have crossed my mind in the last three years, and I know I don't know the half of what's gone on with you in that time. I thought you were gone for good, to be frank."

"Some days, I thought the same," she replied truthfully, because at times the thought of facing Mako again had left her running in the opposite direction.

"You're here now though," Bolin said, lips thin. "For better or worse."

She said nothing. Only nodded.

Bolin jerked his chin towards the door through which his brother had disappeared. "I watched him all this time, and he was miserable without you in his life. Mako's strong, but even I don't know he managed to keep it all together for so long. He was on the verge of falling apart, no matter how he lied to me."

Korra's throat was tight and her tongue thick as she trailed its tip over her upper lip. Bolin's eyes were hard upon her then, hard and protective.

"Listen, I love you, as my friend and the sister I never had. But you don't get to do that to my brother ever again, understand? There doesn't get to be a next time. This is it. I don't want to have to choose between you and him, Korra. I'll always pick Mako."

She began to smile reassuringly and then thought better of the idea. This was not the time or place.

"I understand," she said instead, solemn and utterly sincere.

Bolin's gaze softened. "Come here, you."

Korra closed her eyes as she settled her brow against his, Bolin's palm cool against her cheek. "It's good to have you back," he told her when she moved away. She nodded again, lifting her little finger to itch at the corner of her eyes. "I'll put right what I made wrong," she told him, "I can promise you that."

Mako was waiting for her several strides away from the door. She walked beside him this time. Once they stepped through the doors of the hospital, he walked with her over to the car that waited for her. He politely declined her offer to drop him off at his apartment. He was going to check to see if his motorcycle was still parked up beside the hospital. Korra smiled a little at the story of how it had gotten there. Afterwards, she glanced towards the road, watching numerous cars pass by in a blur of noise and exhaust smoke before looking back at Mako.

"I'm going to stay at Air Temple Island tonight," she told him, "I have a lot to discuss with Tenzin."

It was another half-truth. Mako saw through it, she knew.

"Alright," was all he said in reply.

Korra lingered for a long moment, but she was unsure of what to do with herself, with her hands and her lips and her eyes. Mako was still guarding her expression from her. Eventually, she settled in giving another small smile and turned to the rear door of the Satomobile.

The tinny jangling of metal accompanied his voice. "Hold on a second, Korra."

She turned around to find him holding a thin ring of steel pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Hanging pointed towards the ground were two keys, one longer than the other, the colour of faded bronze, and the shorter glittering silver. Numbly, Korra lifted her hand. Mako laid the set of keys upon her palm. They were cool, almost cold. They were hers.

"They're still yours," he said when silence continued to claim her and uncertainty rose to her eyes.

She looked up at him. It was just like the first time he had given her these keys; the action said so much more than his few words. Korra reached up and kissed him on the cheek. He didn't pull away as a flash of fear told her he would. His skin was warm where hers brushed against it.

"See you later," she bid him. His mouth curved, just a little.

* * *

_He didn't know where he was going, but one thing of which he was certain was that he was walking towards the front door and would not stop once he got there. At least, not until he heard her voice._

_"I'm sorry, Mako."_

_For whatever reason, it stilled him. It kept his arm at his side when he willed it to rise up to the door handle. It kept the soles of his feet firmly rooted to the floor. It made him turn, slowly but eventually, when her footsteps approached him. _

_Her eyes were so blue, so bright even when tinged with sadness. In the beginnings of their relationship, he often found it difficult to meet her gaze directly and hold it when talking to her. Over the years, the opposite became true. It was difficult for him to look away, even when the last thing he wanted to see right now were her eyes. Because her eyes were truth, beauty and passion, and even if he could rebuke the words of her lips, when she spoke with her eyes as she had learned to do, consciously or otherwise, it called to some part of him that cold reason could not retain its hold upon. Mako clenched his teeth down upon his anger, his bitterness, his…he didn't even know anymore. His chest was taxed almost to bursting point just keeping the whirlwind of his emotions at the very fringe of his control._

_"I know my apology means little to you, no matter how many times I'll say it," Korra spoke quietly. "I know that I've hurt you deeply and I wish I hadn't, more than anything. I wish I could reach your heart and heal it as easily as I could heal a cut with water, but I know I can't. I know it will take time for that wound to heal. But…" and she took a deep breath before continuing, "Mako, I'm not asking you to forgive me. I only ask that you give me a chance to put right all the things that have gone wrong in my absence. Give me a chance to fix what's been broken. Please, that's all I ask."_

_He almost laughed. At first, he was unsure what gave rise to that reaction, but then he realised that it was Korra's way with words. Her tongue, once blunt and unskilled, was so no more. Mako heard what she said, did not say and then said all over again. He had to wonder if she had done it on purpose; she had been coached thoroughly to manipulate words to her will and purpose. Such a skill was necessary when one entered daily the arena of politics. But then he read her eyes._

_Mako did not understand how he could break so easily, how the chaos of his emotions could be pierced so cleanly by a single thought; a single truth. He loved her, still. Despite everything. More than anything. And it hurt to love her so much._

_He closed his eyes when he took her face between his hands without a word, resting her brow against his. She was murmuring softly as his tear fell upon her cheek. Mako listened more to the sound of her voice than the words she spoke. It was strong and full, even when she lowered it, resonating with promise. He listened carefully to that promise. That was all; he listened._

And he remembered it now, as he looked down at the slip of paper grasped between his fingers. The envelope it had come sealed within sat on the table beside the telephone stand in front of him. It had grabbed his attention immediately when he opened his mail box after stepping into the building. Written upon it in a plain hand he did not recognise was the single character of his name, and nothing more. No address – either his or the sender's. Nothing. Just his name. So, brow creased with a frown, Mako quickly took himself and the envelope to his apartment. Now he was looking upon its contents.

_Parks Street, Behind The Lone Yue, Eleventh Hour_

_If you still wish to help, here is your chance._

It appeared that the Equalist had indeed remembered him.


End file.
